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assing Through 

The Ordeal. 


BY 

ARTHUR PRATT. 



NEW YORK : 

J. 8. OGIT.VIF. PUBLISHING COMPANY, 



















































































































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PASSING 

4*K 

THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 



THE SUNNYSIDE SERIES, No. 88. Issued Quarterly, October, 
1895. Subscription $1.00 per year. Entered at New 
York Post Office as second-class matter. 


Copyright, 1895, by Arthur Pratt, 
All rights reserved. 


3QJ8§§] 


New York : 

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING" COMPANY 

57 Rose Street. 





















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DEDICATED 

TO 

ALL IN BONDAGE 

WHO ARE STRUGGLING TO BE FREE. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

I. Disowned .... 

5 

II. The Yow 

16 

III. Shipwrecked .... 

. 28 

IY. Struggles .... 

40 

Y. The Quarrel . . 

. 49 

YI. Rest 

56 

YII. The Unexpected 

.65 

YIII. Unmasked .... 

T2 

IX. Jealousy .... 

. T9 

X. The Threat 

85 

XI. Temptation .... 

. 90 

XII. The Light Breaks 

96 

XIII. The Accusation 

. 104 

XI Y. Complications 

109 

XY., Yictory 

. 113 

(O 



PASSING 

THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


CHAPTER I. 

DISOWNED. 

I know I have something to say worth the 
saying, and I want to say it in such a way, that 
it may be a warning to some, a comfort to others, 
and interesting to all. 

By it I mean the story of my fall and redemp- 
tion ; the story of one who sank low, yes, very low, 
but who afterwards, by God’s grace and his own 
efforts, cut loose from the ties and temptations 
which had dragged him down, and rose, step by 
step, to the might and majesty of a free man. 

And it is mainly the hope that some unhappy 
brother — still struggling in the toils — reading this 
history — may take heart again, that impels me to 
lay bare the secrets of my life. 

My father, having made a fortune, had bought 
an estate some thirty miles from London, where 
he purposed spending the remainder of his days. 

( 5 ) 


6 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


He had been twice married. By the first mar- 
riage he had a daughter. By the second — twenty- 
three years later — a son : myself. My half-sister 
had married a lawyer, named Rascom, by whom 
she had a son, who, at the time this narrative be- 
gins, was nearly twenty -one years old ; a little 
older than myself. We all lived together: my 
mother being an invalid, the presence of my 
half-sister was thought necessary to her com- 
fort. 

My brother-in-law I thoroughly detested. Bad 
as I was he made me worse, for he somehow con- 
trived that all my misdeeds should appear in their 
blackest colors : a course in marked contrast to 
liis treatment of his son, who was made to seem 
as good as I was bad. 

I had always been a wild and reckless boy, the 
first in mischief, the last to yield obedience “ to 
the powers that be,” either at home or abroad. 
Naturally I was always in trouble ; not so much 
from innate wickedness as from mere exuberance 
of animal spirits, and love of fun. My faults, 
venial at first, were made by the malice of my 
brother-in-law to be the results of deliberate wick- 
edness and were often believed to be so by my 
father. Smarting under the sense of injustice, it 
was not long, therefore, before my transgressions 
assumed a darker hue. 

It is needless to trace my downward career, as 


DISOWNED. 


7 


from “ bad to worse ” became the rule. Unruly at 
school ; expelled from college ; for two years I 
bad lived in a round of dissipation in London, do- 
ing my best, or rather worst, to exhaust my 
father’s purse and patience. 

Not having received any reply to the last re- 
quest for money, sent over a week before, I de- 
termined to make a personal appeal. 

It was not without some inward tremors that I 
wended my way from the railway station to my 
father's house. Visions of some of my numerous 
escapades, somehow, rose unbidden before me ; not 
the least disquieting of which was a recent one in 
which Ramsden — my partner at cards— and my- 
self, by implication, had been detected cheating ; 
a highly colored account of which had found its 
way into the newspapers. When near the lodge 
my courage failed, and I had half a mind to turn 
back ; but my affairs w^ere desperate ; money I 
must have ; so boldly I strode through the 
grounds, passing on the way one of the gardeners, 
Bob Brierton, my companion in many a midnight 
marauding expedition. He leaned upon his spade, 
and gazed with open-mouthed amazement upon 
me. Recovering he made a movement as though to 
detain me, but on I went, being after higher game 
than he. Running up the stone steps I would 
have passed into the house, but the door would 
not yield. Surprised— it was not customary to 


8 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


have the hall door fastened — I hesitated what to 
do next. At last I raised the huge knocker which 
adorned the outer door, and gave three moderate 
knocks. There was no response, although the 
skurrying of feet could be heard within. Once 
more with added force I knocked upon the door. 
Still no response. Loud as were the knockings 
they were but as feeble taps compared with the 
knockings of my heart ; for I had bargained for no 
such reception as this. Once more I raised the 
knocker, and sent a thunderous peal, whose echoes 
might have waked the dead that slept. Ah, that 
told ! The door swung slowly upon its hinges, 
and I found myself face to face with — my hated 
brother-in-law. 

For a few moments we eyed each other in 
silence. 

“ What do you want young man ? ” demanded 
he, at last. 

“ I want to see my father.” 

“ Your father ! ” repeated he, in tones the 
memory of whose mockery, even now, stirs my 
blood, “you have no father. He has disowned 
you as a disgrace to his name.” 

“ It is false ! ” cried I. 

“ No, it is not false,” answered he, “ it is true. 
He has disowned you, and forever forbids you 
this house. What is there in common between 
Reginald Dayton, father, of unblemished character, 


DISOWNED. 


9 


and Reginald Dayton, son, reprobate and card 
sharper ? ” 

Before I could spe-cik, he continued, “ Here, read 
that;” and he thrust through the open door a 
paper, which I mechanically took and read. 

“I, Reginald Dayton, the elder, in view of the 
irreclaimable wickedness of Reginald Dayton, the 
younger, hitherto my son, do from henceforth dis- 
own him, and forbid him ever to darken my doors 
again. 

Signed, 

Reginald Dayton.” 

It was then too true ! the cord so long stretched 
had snapped at last. I was simply paralyzed; no 
such contingency had even entered my thoughts, 
yet, here was the sad reality. 

I bowed my head upon my hands, and in my 
anguish groaned aloud. 

Some wild idea of getting my foe to intercede 
for me ran through my mind, and I looked up, but 
the triumphant smile I saw upon his face, froze the 
prayer upon my lips. 

“ Here,” said he, “ as your father does not wish 
you to die of hunger, he sends you this as a part- 
ing gift ; ” and he handed me a bundle of bank 
notes. 

I took the notes, and, tearing them in twain, 
cast them upon the ground, and trampled them 
under foot. 


10 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


“I do not want his money,” I cried, “but his 
love ! ” 

“Well,” said he, “you lost "the one long ago, 
and now you are losing the -ether; but come, we 
have had enough of these mock heroics ; you had 
better take yourself back to the kennel from 
whence you came.” 

Then, like lightning, there flashed upon my 
mind the deep laid scheme of this man : he would 
oust me from my father’s love to put his son in 
my place. 

“ I see it all ! I see it all ! ” I shouted. “ You 
incarnate villain : you would turn me adrift that 
your son may fill my place;” and maddened be- 
yond control, with uplifted hand, I rushed upon 
him, only to batter, with impotent rage, the mas- 
sive door, which was slammed in my face. 

Perhaps it was God’s mercy it was so, for there 
was murder in my heart. 

“ How dare you,” said a voice near me. “ How 
dare you speak of my father so?” 

Turning I confronted the son, who came up the 
steps towards me. With savage joy I turned 
upon him. Here, at least, was somebody upon 
whom I could vent my rage. 

“ Because,” said I, “he is a scoundrel who has 
robbed ” 

He raised his hand to strike me. Gathering all 
my force, I shrieked, “ Take that, you cuckoo’s 


DISOWNED. 


11 


brood, who would usurp another's nest,” and dealt 
him a blow upon the face that felled him like a 
stricken ox. In falling his forehead struck the 
edge of one of the stone steps, which made a 
ghastly wound, from which the blood flowed in 
streams : a wound, the marks of which he bore to 
his dying day, and which afterwards rose up in 
judgment against me; as all our sins, sooner or 
later, are sure to do. Little recked I, however, 
whether he were alive or dead, as, turning my 
back upon my boyhood’s home, I strode away to 
face the world ; without money, without friends, 
without a home. 

Rage against my enemy, despair at my defeat, 
remorse for my sins, and fear as to the future, by 
turns took possession of me. 

At the top of the next hill, I turned to take a 
last, long look at the home, which with all its 
drawbacks, had still been a happy home to me. 
There was the brook in which I used to fish ; the 
rustic bridge upon which I had been wont to sit, 
my naked feet dangling in the water below ; the 
field, where old Fincher had shot me over his 
head, into the thorny hedge, after I had stolen a 
surreptitious ride upon his back ; the adjacent 
wood famous for its nuts. Each familiar spot 
added fresh poignancy to the pangs of parting. 
There, too, lay the old house with its peaked 
gables and dormer windows; all bathed in the 


12 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

mellow light of the setting sun. What a beauti- 
ful, tranquil, old home it was ! but not for me. 
The agony Adam and Eve must have felt, as they 
quitted Paradise, entered into my soul. Surely 
that was a hand that waved from one of the win- 
dows ! Yes, it was my mother’s room : it was my 
mother’s hand waving a farewell to her erring 
son. It was the hand that smote my rocky heart; 
and the tears gushed in torrents from my eyes. 

To hide my grief from any passer-by, I turned 
into the shady wood, and laying prone upon my 
'face upon the green sward, sobbed as though my 
heart would break. I had laid there some time, 
Avhen I felt a hand upon my shoulder, and heard 
a voice say, “ Come, master, don’t give way like 
that.” 

Looking up, I saw Bob Brierton, standing over 
me with a bundle upon his arm. 

“ What do you want ? ” asked I, angry he should 
have seen me so unmanned. 

“ I want to go with you, master, wherever you 
go,” replied .Bob, with a touching devotion that 
would not have disgraced Ruth, when she spoke to 
Naomi. 

“ But, Bob,” said I rising* to my feet, “ don’t 
you know my father has disowned me, and I have 
neither money nor friends ? ” 

“ So much the more reason why I should go with 
you, to look after you,” said Bob, and then he 


DISOWNED. 


13 


added, as though that settled the whole matter, 
“ If you haven’t got any friends, master, you have 
got me.” 

“ I can’t pay you any wages, and I don't know 
when I shall be able to, either,” continued I. 

“You can pay me, master, when I ask you,” re- 
plied Bob. 

“Well, be it as you say, Bob,” said I, as I 
grasped his hand, feeling all was not lost while 
one true heart remained. 

“ You said you had no money, master, but what 
be these I picked up, after you had left that black- 
hearted villain ? ” asked Bob, as he handed me the 
torn bank notes. 

I found they amounted to <£100, and being 
torn clean through the middle, when pasted to- 
gether, were as good as new. This time I put 
them in my pocket. Bob went with me to Lon- 
don as my servant, he said ; more as a friend, I 
thought. 

Although very ignorant, he was so shrewd and 
capable that I gave him £50, and told him to at- 
tend to everything, which he did, while I fell back 
into much the same life I had lived before. 

It was not long before my money was nearly 
gone, and to add to my distress, Ramsden pre- 
sented an I. O. U. for £200, which, he said, I had 
given him for gambling losses, on that fearful night 
of September 14th, when he and I had been accused 


14 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


of cheating. Only a week previously I had sent 
him by Bob, <£5, in response to a letter asking the 
loan of £10, in which he had hinted, if further 
publicity were not desired, it would be well to 
oblige him. For my mother’s sake I was willing 
to do anything. Of the I. O. U. I had no recol- 
lection whatever, but was obliged to admit I was 
too intoxicated to remember anything distinctly. 
When I saw my actual signature, I could only 
make the best of a bad job, and promise to pay, 
when able. 

In a short time I was utterly bankrupt. 

u Bob,” said I, “ we are in a bad fix.” 

“I know it, master,” said he. “We owe Mrs. 
Wilson — our landlady — £15, and she says she 
must have her money; she can’t wait any longer.” 

“ Fifteen pounds ! ” exclaimed I, aghast, “ why 
I haven’t got more than five shillings left.” 

“ Then all the money’s gone, and we’re in debt 
besides,” said Bob, and then slowly and solemnly, 
he added as though h$ were returning thanks: 
“ Thank God ! Now we shall have to work.” 

Far into the night we sat and debated what 
could be done. Plan after plan was rejected, as 
my accomplishments were mostly of the super- 
ficial order. At last I casually mentioned, a few 
days ago I had met a man, who had recently re- 
turned from the gold fields in Australia, where he 
had grown rich. “ What a pity,” I added, with a 


DISOWNED. 


15 


sigh, “we didn't go there at first, when we had 
the money.” 

“ How much would it cost to take us there ? ” 
asked Bob, who seemed strangely excited over the 
idea. 

“Well ! ” replied I, running the matter over in 
my mind, “ we should have to pay our passage, 
and buy some tools and odd things besides, but, 
Heavens ! what’s the use of talking, when that’s 
all we’ve got left?” and I held out the five shill- 
ings in the palm of my hand. 

Without a word Bob rose and left the room, 
leaving me in utter astonishment at his conduct. 
Presently he returned, and having closed and 
locked the door, he laid a small, yellow canvas 
bag, tied at the top with an old shoe lace, upon 
the table. 

“See that, master, see that ! ” he said, while the 
tears coursed each other down his cheeks ; “ That 
bag holds £50, which my old father — God bless 
him ! — gave me just before he died. They were 
the savings of his lifetime,” and he brushed the 
tears from his eyes. 

“ I’ll tell thee, master, what I will do. I will 
lend thee £25, and take the other £25 myself, and 
we will go to this rich country, and make a fresh 
start in life.” 

I was so overcome I could not speak. 

“Yes,” he continued, “I will lend thee £25, 


16 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

master ; for I know thou wilt not rob poor Boh 
of the money his old father left him. Mrs. Wil- 
son I will pay later ; for she trusted me, not thee.” 

I gripped him by the hand ; we looked into 
eacli other’s eyes, and my soul was knit unto his, 
even as the soul of Jonathan unto David. 

Not until my head lay upon the pillow did I 
realize the full force of what he had done. He 
would even sacrifice, for sacrifice it might be, his 
old father’s money, to part me from evil associ- 
ates, that I might start a new life in a new world. 

Oh ! Bob ! Bob, faithful, old Bob ! how shall I 
ever repay thee ? 

Before leaving England, I wrote my mother of 
my destination and intentions. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE VOW. 

After a long and tedious voyage we reached 
Melbourne, where we were fortunate enough to 
fall in with a small party, which was about setting 
out for the interior. 

One of the party had previously discovered a 
small stream, running among the mountains, and 


THE VOW. 


IT 


almost inaccessible ; the bed of which, he claimed 
was rich in auriferous deposits. 

It was oidy by the sacrifice of my watch that 
we could buy the necessary tools and provisions, 
everything being very high. 

While it was uncertain whether we should find 
gold, there was no doubt those who fitted us out 
were working a veritable gold mine. 

After days of toilsome marching, climbing 
mountains, fording rivers and beating through 
the bush, at last we dragged our weary limbs to 
the top of the highest mountain we had yet 
reached, and there saw — hundreds of feet below — 
the stream we sought. 

Never had the eye of man rested upon a fairer 
scene. Two lofty hills reared their foreheads to 
the skies, their sharply sloping sides covered with 
verdure, and rich with flowers ; being broken here 
and there by projecting rocks, which had stood for 
centuries, like grim guardians of the secluded 
valley, along which flowed the shallow stream, be- 
neath whose waters lay the precious treasure we 
had come so far to seek. 

Tired as we were we rent the air with shouts of 
joy. Just then, through some opening in the 
mountain, the crimson rays of the setting sun 
struck the stream in a moment, as by magic, 
transmuting it into the gold we sought. “ See 
2 


18 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


boys,” I cried, “ a favorable omen ! The gold is 
there.” 

Nor did the substance belie the symbol : the 
stream was rich in gold dust. 

We were there some time, and all did well. 

Some there were, and sometimes I was among 
the number, who lost more gambling at night 
than they had found during the day. 

Bob never gambled. 

At times I saw his eyes fixed upon me, as 
much as to say, “ Is that the man for whom I 
perilled my old father’s money?” It always 
made me feel uneasy, and, at the first chance, I 
got away. 

One afternoon I had been more reckless than 
usual, and, after losing a very heavy stake, hap- 
pening to look up, I saw Bob gazing upon me with 
such pitying, reproachful eyes, that I rose ab- 
ruptly, and declaring I wouldn’t play again, gath- 
ered up my gold dust, and climbed the mountain 
side. At the top I sat down, and moved, perhaps, 
by the passing panorama of light and shade, the 
moving clouds threw upon the surrounding land- 
scape, I fell to thinking of my checkered career. 

How foolish ; how wicked I had been ! Twenty- 
one years old. The cup of pleasure drained to 
the dregs ; only bitterness left. 

Along the past a melancholy procession of 
gloomy shadows — disheartening as those the 


THE VOW. 


19 


Thane of Cawdor saw — of lost hopes, lost honors, 
lost chances, and lost faiths. ’Twere time, indeed, 
that I should change, and change I would. 

“Yes,” I cried, springing to my feet, “by the 
living God who made me, I swear I will change 
my course. The evil I have known shall know 
me no more. And, as from the ashes of its par- 
ent, the fabled phenix sprang into life, so, out of 
the ashes of my past, rise I, Reginald Dayton, 
this day, a new man.” 

Raising my clasped hands to Heaven to record 
my vow, I saw the sun sailing upon his majestic 
course, and as with the voice of inspiration, I 
cried, “ Be thou, oh sun, my witness ! May thy 
morning beams, thy setting rays, and thy merid- 
ianal splendor recall my vow, and keep me con- 
stant to my purpose.” Viewed in the light of 
later events, I say it was inspiration, real as ever 
prophets of old had felt. 

We talk of trifles: we men, who peer into the 
heavens above, and dive into the earth beneath, 
and cross seas to compass our desires : we talk of 
trifles I say, as though, when the displacement of 
a single atom would wreck the whole system of 
worlds, there could be trifles in the greater mys- 
tery of life. 

Have I not known, more than once, when the 
powers of darkness and of light have battled for 
my soul, when my fate has trembled in the bal- 


20 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


ance, liow a simple sunbeam lias turned the scale, 
and saved my soul alive? as such of you who read 
this history will learn. 

Filled with the high resolve to mend my course, 
I determined to return home. 

Yes, not here in this almost inaccessible spot 
— far from the haunts of men — but upon the 
broader stage of life, among the men and women 
where I had forfeited fair renown, there would I 
work out my redemption. 

Retracing my steps to the camp I lingered, in 
the shadow of some trees, to watch my compan- 
ions, as with mattock, and spade, and cradle they 
sought u the yellow gold,” and thinking, not with- 
out a tinge of sorrow, how soon I should be leav- 
ing them. 

Presently a loud hallooing was heard in the dis- 
tance, and in a moment more, Dick Swift, whom 
we had sent to Melbourne for letters, was seen 
hurrying towards the camp. Upon seeing him, 
the miners — there w r ere some twenty or more — 
dropped their tools, scrambled up the bank — like 
bees about a hive — eager for news. 

What a study their faces were, as they read 
their letters ! Some lighted up with joy, others 
darkened by sorrow : some spiritualized by love, 
others moody from remorse. 

Presently, I espied Bob coming towards where 
I was hidden, with a letter in his hand. Perhaps 


THE VOW. 


21 


he knew I was there, and wanted me to read it, as 
lie couldn’t read himself. No ! he stops short, and 
taking the letter from the envelope, Turns it about 
in his hands, examining it as though it were some 
sort of an animal he had never seen before. 

“Well,” said he at last, “there are not many 
can come up to Bob Brierton, when muscle and 
sinew are wanted. I can run faster, ride harder, 
shoot better, swim further, and fight longer than 
most fellows, but hang it! when I get a bit of 
paper like this, phew ! ” and he blew upon it ; 
“ I’m all knocked out ; weak as a baby, and fool- 
ish as a kitten.” And he looked it over again. 
“ Yes, I believe it’s from Polly, too. I must get it 
read somehow.” 

He looked' around, and seeing Gay nor — one of 
the miners — coming towards him, he put the letter 
between his teeth, and began to search his pock- 
ets, looking around on the ground, as though he 
had lost something. 

“ Why, Bob,” said the newcomer, “ have you 
lost anything ? ” 

“ Lost anything ! ” growled Bob, “ I should 
think I had, I can’t find my specs; and here’s 
a letter I’m fairly itching to read. It’s from 
my girl. Say old man won’t you read it for 
me ? ” 

“ Of course,” replied Gaynor, “ but don’t you 
think you had better find your specs. There 


22 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


might be some spooney things, you wouldn’t like 
me to read.” 

44 I guess I’ll have to stand that,” said Bob, as, 
with a flourish, he handed him the letter. 

“ Why,” said Gaynor 44 it’s upside down.” 

“You don’t say so,” said Bob, looking; “ so it 
is ; my sight’s plaguey bad.” 

“Bad!” exclaimed Gaynor, “why you shoot 
better than any of us.” 

“ So I do,” said Bob, slowly stroking his 
beard, “but then you see,” he added, after a 
pause, speaking hurriedly, “ I’ve got double sight 
then.” 

“ Double sight ! what do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean, ” answered Bob, “ my own sight, and 
the sight on the rifle.” 

“ You’ll do,” said Gaynor, and they both 
laughed. 

“ Come now,” said Bob, in a wheedling tone, 
“read the letter, there’s a dear fellow.” 

Gaynor having straightened it out, and cleared 
his throat, began. 

“ 4 My dear Mr. Brierton.’ ” 

“ 4 My dear Mr. Brierton,’ ” repeated Bob, 
“nice, ain’t it, but Polly was awful sweet on 
me ; she was.” 

“ 4 You will remember in our last talk, before 
you left, you promised faithfully to write me.’ ” 

“So I did, old girl, so I did,” said Bob; “it’s a 


THE VOW. 


23 


shame I haven’t ; ” then he added below his breath, 
44 specs again.” 

“ ‘ I have often thought of you,’ ” 

44 There now ! ” exclaimed Bob. 

44 ‘ And knowing you have a good heart,’ ” 

Bob placed his hand upon his heart, and bowed, 
and looked pleased. 

“ 4 And were an honest man, I have always felt 
I should hear from you.’ ” 

44 So you shall Polly, so you shall,” burst out 
Bob ; then aside, he added, 44 even if I have to 
join the ABC class.” 

44 4 When things were darkest, and I was hardest 
pushed, I have thought of you.’ ” 

44 Poor girl ! ” said Bob, pityingly. 

4 4 4 And said to myself, Bob will keep his prom- 
ise.’ ” 

44 So I will ! ” exclaimed Bob. 44 So I will. I 
never went back on a man yet, let alone a 
woman.” 

44 4 Now, as I have no doubt you are making lots 
of money, I make bold to ask you to send me, as 
soon as possible, the £15, owing for board. 

Yours waitingly, 

Harriet Wilson.’ ” 

44 Hang it man ! ” roared Bob, 44 then it ain’t 
from Polly after all.” 

“Hush!” said Gaynor, after a hearty laugh, 
44 there’s something else.” 


24 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


“ ‘ P. S. I have heard your old friend Polly is 
soon to be married to Sam Evans.’ ” 

“ Dang your board bills, and double dang } r our 
P. S.’s,” cried Bob furiously, and he jumped 
around as though a hornet had stung him. 

, Calming down he said, “ Thank you, Gaynor, 
it seems I ain’t as smart as I thought I was. 
Lost a sweetheart, and found a board bill! You’ve 
been very kind, but — I think I’ll find my specs 
the next time.” And he took his letter, and crept 
ashamedly away. 

Poor Bob’s discomforture was very amusing, 
yet I was very sorry for him, the more so, as T 
felt but for that unfortunate bill — my bill — such 
a thing could not have happened, and not wishing 
to meet him just then, I walked further down the 
valley. 

Under the shadow of a great rock, unexpect- 
edly I came upon another miner, William Raynor, 
a man old and grey before his time. He was al- 
ways working as though his life depended upon 
getting all he could ; and silent and reserved upon 
all other subjects, except his boy Harry, who was 
studying to be a doctor in England. His boy was 
an inexhaustible theme. 

There he sat, rocking' himself to and fro, and 
moaning as though his heart were breaking. 

“ Why, Mr. Raynor,” asked I, “ what is amiss? ” 

At first he didn’t seem conscious of my pres- 


THE VOW. 


25 


enee, but upon the question being repeated, he 
moaned : “ My boy, my boy Harry is dead.” 

“ Dead,” echoed I, “ that is indeed a loss,” 
knowing, as I did, how much his heart was bound 
up in the boy. Then I set myself, as best I could, 
to comfort him. lie heard me in silence, seem- 
ingly absorbed in his sorrow, until ill-advisedly, I 
said : 

“ You should remember life is not all dark. 
Though you have suffered an irreparable loss, yet, 
on the other hand, you have been laying up 
money very fast lately.” 

“ Money ! Money ! ! Money ! ! ! ” shrieked the 
old man, springing to his feet, and the echoing 
hills — as though in derision — muttered again and 
again in falling cadence, “ Money, money, money.” 

“ What is money to me now, my handsome boy 
is dead ? My boy, the child of my old age, with 
his loving eyes, and his sainted mother’s face. 
Money ! What can money do ? Can all the treas- 
ure hidden in those hills, or buried in this stream, 
give me back one smile from his sweet face, or 
one word from his dumb lips ? ” 

And the old man wandered disconsolately away ; 
moaning as he went, “ dead ! dead ! dead ! ” 

As it was useless to speak to him then, I let 
him go. Returning to the camp I met Dick Swift. 
With some hesitation he drew a black-edged en- 
velope from his pocket, saying commiseratingly, 


26 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


as he handed it to me, “ Here is a letter for you, 
Mr. Dayton. No bad news, I hope.” 

No sooner did my eyes catch sight of the black 
border — ominops of evil — than a shudder of dread 
ran through my frame. With trembling fingers I 
took out the enclosure. 

My turn had come : my parents were dead. 

It was a formal note from Mr. Blanchard — my 
father’s solicitor — informing me my father had 
died of apoplexy, a few weeks after my departure, 
and that my mother had never recovered from the 
shock, but had died a few days later ; in fact they 
were buried within a week of each other. 

In legal phraseology, politely couched, I was in- 
formed my name did not appear in my father's 
will, but that my mother had left me <£200. She 
had left a codicil to her will, in a sealed envelope, 
which was not to be opened until two years after 
her decease. He enclosed a letter from my mother, 
and should be pleased to make any disposition of 
the money I might desire. That was all. No 
words of sympathy or regret at my absence from 
my parents’ deathbeds. Evidently my father’s 
solicitor had no great opinion of my father’s son. 

Tenderly I opened my mother’s letter. In a 
tremulous hand was written : 

“ Reginald, My Dear Son : 

I feel I am drawing near my end. Before I go, 
I want to say I forgive you all the pain your follies 


THE VOW. 


27 


have caused me. With my dying breath, I im- 
plore you to make a supreme effort to free your- 
self from the thralldom of sin, and to become a 
man again. 

Should God, in His providence, permit it, my 
spirit shall watch over you, to cheer you when 
you fail, and rejoice when you succeed. 

Once more I beseech you to heed the dying 
wisli of Your loving 

Mother.” 

“ Yes, mother, I had made that 4 supreme effort ’ 
before your letter came. Thank God for that ! 
Or could it be that God, in His mercy, had 
granted thy wish, and permitted thy spirit to in- 
fluence me to that high resolve ? What strength 
and consolation in the thought ! dead thou wert 
living : absent thou wert present : invisible, yet 
potent to save.” 

Later I visited the bereaved father. This time 
the sympathy of one, who like himself had suf- 
fered, broke down the stony barriers of his heart. 
Far into the night we talked, of what had been, 
what might have been, and what should be ; 
soothed by each other’s company. Before we 
parted it was agreed I should have a stone erected 
over his boy’s grave. 

I begged him not to press money upon me for 
the monument, but to let me do this thing, as an 
earnest of the things to come in my new life. 

When I returned to my solitary hut, it was 


28 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


with a serenity of soul I had never known before. 

How lovely and tranquil the valley looked ! 
The moon had robed the mountain sides in gar- 
ments of silvery white. The grim rocks seemed 
spirits of the just made perfect: the placid stream, 
the pathway of the purified, and its gentle ripple, 
the voices of angels, who whispered : 

“Be of good cheer, Reginald ; be of good cheer.” 

I sank upon my knees, beside my humble bed 
that night, and prayed as I had never prayed be- 
fore. The place seemed filled with translucent 
light ; the side of the hut faded away, and, as I 
saw the angelic form of my mother, with out- 
stretched hands, hovering above, I cried, with all 
the fervor of an awakened soul, “ Mother ! I will ! 
I will ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 

SHIPWRECKED. 

Three days later we quitted our companions, 
much to their regret, though they were doubtless 
consoled by the thought : the more that left, the 
better for those who remained. 

At Melbourne we obtained bank notes for our 


SHIPWRECKED. 


29 


money, which amounted to a goodly sum. The 
notes were securely fixed inside a leather belt, 
which I wore around my person. All of which 
was done to please Bob, though I strenuously ob- 
jected to the whole proceeding, pointing out we 
could draw out our money in London, without 
risk of loss, but Bob said, having worked so hard 
for our money he would like to feel we could lay 
our hands upon it when we wanted ; so much 
against my better judgment I gave way. 

A few days more and we were homeward 
bound. The change was great, indeed, from the 
tranquil valley to the tumultuous sea. There our 
vision was bounded by the mountain sides and the 
sky above ; here an interminable waste of waters 
kissed the sky at the horizon’s edge. There we 
had the song of birds, and the ripple of the river ; 
here the roar of the tempest, and the rush of many 
waters. 

There were not many passengers, and of those 
we saw little for some days ; the sea being, by 
long odds, the most successful of all fomentors of 
internal rebellions. When they did straggle upon 
deck, there were two that particularly attracted 
my attention. The first was a slender, shapely 
girl of seventeen or eighteen, with a fine, sensitive 
face, and dark brown curls, which had a peculiar 
fascination for me as they fluttered in the breeze. 

She was devoted to her companion, evidently 


30 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


her father, a mild scholarly-looking old gentleman, 
whose time was mostly taken up, either in reading 
or in making notes. 

Notwithstanding the general neglect, at sea, of 
those conventional rules, which have such binding 
force on shore, it was sometime before we became 
acquainted. 

One night I stood by the side of the ship, look- 
ing at the waves as they rose and fell, their crests 
here and there tipped with light. Above, the 
vault of heaven was studded with stars innumer- 
able, that twinkled and shone with a brilliancy 
unapproachable upon. land. Moved by the sublim- 
ity of the scene, involuntarily, like David of old, 
I exclaimed : 

“ Oh Lord, how great are thy works ! ” 

“Yes,” said a voice, so gentle it might have 
been an echo of my inner self, “ it is beautiful, 
and only a Master Hand could have made it.” 

Turning, I saw near me, the slender, graceful 
girl I had noticed before. Dark as it was, I saw 
she colored to the temples, as though she had 
been guilty of some indiscretion, and before I 
could speak, she turned and abruptly left the 
deck. 

In my dreams that night I saw again that lovely 
face, and heard once more that gentle voice, “ It 
is beautiful, and only a Master Hand could have 
made it ! ” And such is the weakness of man. I 


SHIPWRECKED. 


31 


thought more of the creature than of the Creator. 
The ice having thus been broken, it was not long 
before we found out we had many other thoughts 
in common ; not that we always agreed, for in a 
manner peculiarly arch and sweet, and all her 
own, she did not hesitate to differ from me as oc- 
casion demanded. She was somewhat Puritanic 
— later on I even dared to call her “my pretty 
Puritan ” — and would pass judgment upon men 
and things with a pretty severity, that made one 
inclined to kiss the hand if not the rod that smote. 
While thinking she was probably more liberal 
than her creed, sometimes I trembled as to what 
would be the result should she know my past 
career. Her father, Mr. Wilcox, and I soon be- 
came great friends. Pie and his daughter, Alice, 
had been visiting his brother, whom he had not 
seen for years. As I had suspected, he was writ- 
ing a book — a history of the world — which was to 
be more exhaustive than any hitherto written. 
He had been engaged upon it four years, and had 
just finished the third chapter. As soon as he got 
home, he told me, he should go back to his be- 
loved book, and try and make up for lost time. 
He should engage an amanuensis, and only hoped 
he should get somebody different to those he had 
had before. “ Do you know, sir,” said he, with a 
sigh, “ I’ve never had an amanuensis yet, and I’ve 
had several, who seemed to enter into the genius 


82 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


of my book. They all did their work in a per- 
functory manner: so many pages so much pay, as 
it were.” 

After a pause he added, “Why even my daughter, 
Alice,” and he patted her cheeks, “ dear, good girl 
as she is, doesn’t seem imbued with the full scope 
of my great design,” and he shook his finger re- 
provingly at her. 

“Well, papa,” she said, with a merry twinkle 
in her eyes, “ you must make some allowance for 
the weakness of the feminine intellect. Besides,” 
she added, with a still merrier twinkle, “you've 
only got three chapters finished yet, so that as 
you get further on, and — and I grow older, no 
doubt I shall do better.” 

Four years, and only three chapters finished ! 
And I fell to speculating how she would look, at 
that rate, when the last chapter was written. 

Lovely she was to me, now, and lovely to me 
she would remain until the last chapter was 
finished, perhaps beyond. Ah ! those were happy, 
happy, thrice happy days as we went sailing on. 

And I, forgetful of the past, lived only in the 
present. But a few months back I had quitted 
England, disowned, disgraced, almost penniless: 
to-day I returned, rich, happy, and with the hope 
of winning a priceless lqve. ’Twas a brave leap 
from the lowest depth to the topmost height. 

Poor fool ! As though a man could blot out his 


SHIPWRECKED. 


33 


past, and with a wave of the hand, lay the ghosts 
of former iniquities. Hast thou forgotten, 
“ Whatsoever a man soweth that also shall he 
reap? ” 

Hitherto the weather had been all that could 
be desired, and we were looking, with joyful an- 
ticipations, to being home again in a few days. 

Soon the wind freshened into a stiff breeze, and 
we shipped a great deal of water. There was, 
however, no cause for alarm, as the ship was sound 
and seaworthy. Bob and I had remained on deck, 
one night quite late, and adjourning to my cabin, 
had, as usual, fallen into making all sorts of rosy 
plans for the future. I was to buy an estate ; 
settle down into a country gentleman, and marry 
some beautiful young lady, and Bob — the sly dog 
— half closed his eyes, and pursed his lips, as much 
as to say: “I see her now.” Yes, and Bob was 
to be my steward and general factotum, and 
though one lady had proved unkind, and didn’t 
know a good-looking, faithful fellow, when she 
met him, “ there were as good fish in the sea, as 
ever were caught.” And we turned in to dream 
of the future. 

I don’t know how long I had slept, when a ter- 
rific shock threw me from the berth upon the 
floor. 

Stunned and dazed as I was, I heard the rush 
of incoming water. 

3 


84 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

“Bob! Bob!” I cried. “Where are you? 
There’s something wrong.” 

“ Here I be, master,” answered Bob, and I 
saw him half-naked, and bleeding from the fore- 
head. 

“ The ship must have struck on a rock. The 
water is coming in by tons,” said I. 

We ran on deck, and found a scene of the wild- 
est confusion. The ship had struck one of those 
Arabs of the sea — a floating derelict. A great 
hole had been stove in her bows, and she was 
rapidly settling in the water. The force of the 
collision had sunk the derelict. There was no 
time to lose. The boats had been lowered, and 
men were fighting like tigers, each man for him- 
self, to escape. And as I saw the boats, loaded 
to the water’s edge, escape seemed hopeless. 

“Bob,” said I, “ we must save the young lady, 
and her father.” 

“ I’m with you there, master, to the death,” re- 
plied Bob. And truly “ to the death ” it seemed 
likely to be. 

We ran down, and without ceremony I burst 
open the cabin door. There with up-turned face 
lay Alice, unconscious upon the floor ; her dark 
brown curls floating upon the rapidly rising water. 
Raising her in my arms, I threw a rug around her, 
and with my precious burden, staggered upstairs 
on deck. 


SHIPWRECKED. 


35 


There I found Bob and her father. The old 
gentleman was completely dazed, and was crying 
for his darling Alice. The fresh air had partially 
revived her, and she threw her arms around my 
neck, and pillowed her head upon my breast, and 
murmured, evidently thinking she was in her 
father’s arms, “I thought I had lost you, dear; I 
thought I had lost you.” 

The situation, even under such circumstances, 
was delightful, and thrilled me through and 
through. But safety lay in action, not in senti- 
ment. I placed her in her father’s arms, and 
looked around. Probably, in the dim light and 
confusion, we had been forgotten ; for the boats 
were being pulled rapidly away, to escape being 
drawn into the vortex of the sinking ship, which 
had already sunk in the water to within a few 
feet of her deck. 

What could be done? All the boats were 
gone. There was no hope. At least we could die 
together. 

“ Master ! ” cried Bob, “ we must make a raft.” 

It was a voice from heaven, and came, like a 
ray of light, though the darkness of the night. 

Never men worked as we did. Some chicken 
coops, two small spars, the covering of the hatch- 
ways, doors, which we tore from their fastenings, 
with all the energy of despair, everything that an- 
swered our purpose, all were lashed securely to- 


36 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


gether with rope found upon deck, or cut from the 
rigging. 

Nor had Miss Wilcox been idle. At the last 
moment, she directed our attention to a couple of 
oars, and a small canvas sail. By the time the 
raft was finished, it floated of itself; the water 
having begun to wash over the deck. Bob and I, 
with the oars, pushed it upon the seething waves, 
away from the doomed ship, which was fast set- 
tling in the water. By superhuman efforts we 
managed to get it a few hundred feet away. 
Feeling we were comparatively safe, I drew the 
rug still closer around Miss Wilcox, and was 
about to whisper there was some hope of being 
saved, when the abandoned ship gave one final 
plunge forward, and sank beneath the waves, 
which closed around her, and then rose and fell, 
as though she had never been. 

As she sank I heard Bob’s voice: “Master, 
have you got the belt ? ” 

“ The belt ! Good God, I never thought of 
it ! ” I cried. 

“ Then, master,” said Bob, between his teeth, 
“ we be beggars again.” 

“ Beggars again ! ” echoed Miss Wilcox. 

“Yes, miss, beggars again,” said Bob, bitterly, 
“ all our money has gone down — ” 

“ Hush ! hush ! ” said I, “ not a word more. 
We must see about saving our lives.” 


SHIPWRECKED. 


37 


Nevertheless it was all true : our money wag at 
the bottom of the sea — the money that was to 
have bought me an estate — made me a country 
gentleman, and helped me to win a lovely bride— + 
was fathoms deep beneath the waves. 

The frail raft, the tossing sea, our deadly peril, 
for the moment were forgotten, and I could have 
laughed aloud in the very ecstacy of despair. 

Bob, too, poor, faithful Bob, and I laid my 
hand upon his shoulder. “ Poor Bob, to what 
have I brought you? I’m the Jonah that has 
wrecked thee.” 

Nay, master, nay,” said Bob, “I only be where 
I started from ; at the bottom of the ladder, but 
thee — well perhaps it’s God’s doing.” 

“It is God’s doing; be sure of that,” said Miss 
Wilcox. “It is God’s doing, and will turnout 
for the best.” 

“Heaven bless thee, Alice, for thy faith !” I 
thought. “ If it be for the best, what were the filthy 
dross compared with the inestimable blessing of thy 
love?” And mindful that “Heaven helps those 
who help themselves,” with eager eyes I peered 
into the darkness. - > 

Apparently there was little room for hope. 
True the waves were subsiding, and we were Safe 
enough for the present, but without food or water, 
how long could we endure ? 

I pass over the agony of the next day, 


38 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


The pangs of hunger were bad, but the intense 
thirst was worse. Strong men as we were, we 
were put to shame, by the silent patience with 
which Miss Wilcox bore her sufferings, and the 
steadfast faith she had of deliverance. 

The blackness of night closed around us, and 
despair as black filled our souls. 

As we started from fitful slumbers, the ceaseless 
lick, lick of the waves against the raft, seemed as 
though they were so many hungry monsters, eager 
for their prey. 

“ A few more hours, Bob,” I whispered, “ and 
neither hunger nor thirst will trouble us more.” 

“ Oh ! ” replied he, “ if the day would only 
break, we might see some ship, and be saved.” 

The day did break, and as the shafts of light 
shot across the waters, we saw — a faint speck in 
the distance, upon the horizon — the sails of a ship. 
With frantic haste we waved aloft, upon our oars, 
the canvas sail. Would they see us? We waved 
the sail aloft again, and again, and yet many times 
again. Heavens ! the unutterable agony of that 
suspense. At last we were sure they were bearing 
rlown upon us. 

When we were safe aboard, the revulsion of 
feeling was so great, we sank unconscious upon 
the deck. Nourishment and kind treatment soon 
revived us, and by the time we reached Liverpool 
— the ship was homeward bound — we were nearly 


SHIPWRECKED. 


39 


well again. None of the boats were ever heard 
of. 

As we parted, Mr. Wilcox earnestly urged us to 
visit him. 

Alice took my hand, and with a glance that 
stirred my soul to its depths, she saidj “ Mr. 
Dayton, I owe my life to you, and I shall never 
forget it.” And once more Bob and I were alone 
again, with barely money enough to take us to 
London. 

“ Well, Bob,” said I. “Naked we came into the 
world, and naked we shall go out of it.” 

By way of reply, Bob laid his fingers upon my 
wrist, much as a physician might, and gravely 
counted up to eighty. “ Humph ! ” said he, 
“pulse all right ! Now, master, as we don’t seem 
to be going out of the world just now, and have 
got something to live for,” and he looked in the 
direction Alice had gone, “ I don’t see why we 
should remain naked.” 

Bob had a wonderful knack of looking on the 
bright side of things, and rousing a man up. 
There was the £200 — my mother’s money — still 
left, and we went to ’London to get it» 


40 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


CHAPTER IV. 

STRUGGLES. 

When I presented myself before that eminently 
respectable gentleman, my deceased father’s so- 
licitor, it was evident from the coldly critical 
glance with which he surveyed me, that my stock, 
never very high, had now fallen below zero. Nor 
could I blame him. The knowledge he had of my 
former pebcaddilos, added to the sorry figure I 
cut, were ample justification. I thought it best to 
make a clean breast of everjThing, and, therefore, 
told him, how, after the money my father had 
given me was spent, Bob and I had sailed to 
Australia, with the aid of Bob’s money, how we 
had amassed a large fortune there, all lost in the 
shipwreck that followed. I told him further, how, 
before I had heard of my mother’s death, I had 
come to mjr senses, and resolved to reform; that I 
was still of the same mind, and had finally con- 
cluded the money had been taken from me, be- 
cause I was not sufficiently disciplined to use it 
aright. 

“You are probably right about that,” said the 
old lawyer, who had listened attentively. “ Did 


STRUGGLES. 


41 


I understand you to say,” he asked, “that 
Brierton, after you had squandered your father’s 
money, voluntarily loaned you £ 25 ; half the 
money his father had left him ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, he did, and' I’m convinced he did it to 
get me away from temptation, and give me an- 
other chance.” 

“Hum,” he mused, “he must have thought 
there was some good in you. But why,” and lie 
turned sharply upon me, “ did you carry so much 
money with you, when you could have had a draft 
upon some London bank for the amount?” 

I explained I had done so in deference to Bob’s 
wishes, as I was under obligations to him. 

“Ugh,” growled he, “you were as big a ninny 
as he was.” 

After a pause, he continued, “ And so you left 
your money in the cabin, and never thought of it 
until it was too late. Well, I suppose life was 
worth more than lucre.” 

He then informed me my mother’s will was 
somewhat irregular. My half-sister and her hus- 
band had been handsomely provided for, but the 
bulk of the property — originally intended for me 
— had been left to my nephew ; provisionally held 
in trust for him, by my brother-in-law, for two 
years. The conditions for the final disposition of 
the property were embodied in a codicil to the 
will, which it was expressly stipulated should 


42 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


not be read until two years after my mother’s 
death.' 

My assault upon my nephew had done much to 
influence my mother in the disposition of her 
property. 

Having paid me the money, he suddenly asked 
if I had been upon good terms with my relatives. 
Upon hearing my emphatic, No ! he smiled a pe- 
culiar smile ; from which I inferred they did not 
stand very high in his books either. 

He then asked as to my plans for the future. I 
told him I proposed to look around, and try and 
earn an honest living, and that I had taken the 
liberty of having my foreign letters addressed in 
his care. 

“ Quite right,” said he, “ and I wish you suc- 
cess, and shall be willing to help you, if you con- 
tinue in the same mind. And, by the way, you 
might send Brierton to me as you won’t want him 
now. And now, young man,” continued he, as I 
was leaving, “ one word of advice. Take care of 
your money; put it out at usury; you might 
make more than you think, if you did.” 

There was something so strange in his manner, 
as he spoke, I wondered what he meant, conclud- 
ing at last, as he knew I had been a spendthrift, 
he only wished to advise me to take care of my 
money. 

The first thing was to settle with Bob, and in 


STRUGGLES. 


43 


doing so we came as near quarreling as possible. 
I insisted upon giving him <£50, whereas he said 
I had only borrowed <£25. In vain I pointed out 
if it had not been for me, he would not have lost 
anything. After a wordy warfare, we compro- 
mised upon <£40, and the <£15 due Mrs. Wilson. 

Bob promised to call upon Mr. Blanchard ; for 
after some consultation we had previous^ decided 
it would be better for us to part for the present. 

The next business was to erect the stone to the 
memory of Harry, the old miner’s son. 

Having arranged everything, and paid all the 
charges, which, in the condition of my finances, I 
thought the wisest course, I wrote a full account 
to the old father in Australia. 

When all was paid, and I had fitted myself with 
decent clothes, there was a little over <£100 left to 
begin the world with. 

When I first started out in quest of employ- 
ment, I little realized what weary work it would 
be. Heaven pity those, say I, male or female, who 
are thrown upon their own resources to earn a 
living, with no better preparation for so doing, be- 
yond the general education they may have re- 
ceived ; some branches of which have but the re- 
motest bearing upon every day life. I found it 
was special, not general knowledge that was 
wanted; hence, time and again, men who had 
some little knowledge of the business in hand, but 


44 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


whose general attainments were far inferior to 
mine, were preferred before me. 

Sore of foot, and sorer }^et at heart, for days I 
trudged from place to place with no success. My 
hopes and my money were dwindling rapidly 
away. Being a facile drawer, at last, I obtained 
employment in a publishing house. By some 
irony of fate I was selected to illustrate the career 
of “ The Prodigal Son.” The series of sketches 
were very successful. My salary was increased, 
and I began to look forward with hope. A few 
weeks later the head of the firm asked me if I 

were related to the Daytons of . When I 

answered, “Yes,” his face clouded, and at the end 
of the week I was discharged : the excuse being 
want of orders : a palpaple falsehood, as the new 
series upon which I was employed was not half 
completed. Then ensued another period of fruit- 
less effort. 

At length, by the kindness of a chance ac- 
quaintance, I obtained a position as bookkeeper, 
and by zealous attention gained the confidence of 
my employer, and again the future looked bright. 
Then the same thing happened again. 

“Dayton,” said my employer. “ I know it is a 
peculiar question, but are you the Dayton who 
was implicated some months back in that card 
cheating affair at ? ” 

What could I do but answer, yes, and though I 


STRUGGLES. 


45 


earnestly protested my innocence, and affirmed my 
complete reformation, he cut me short by saying, 
“ What you say may be all true, yet your common 
sense must tell you, in justice to myself, we must 
part.” 

Once more I was thrown upon the world. 
Everything seemed against me. There was evi- 
dently some sinister influence bent upon defeating 
my best efforts, the source and object of which I 
could not determine. Whilst wandering around 
the streets, despondent and almost desperate, I ran 
across Ramsden. I had been unable to pay him 
anything more upon the I. O. U., and would have 
passed him by, but he detained me. After a few 
inquiries about mutual acquaintances, I told him 
how badly fortune had served me lately; but 
sooner or later I should pay him the money ; upon 
hearing which, much to my surprise, he was visi- 
bly affected, and hesitated what to say. Finally, 
in quite a friendly way, he said, “ Dayton, I feel I 
owe some sort of reparation for that scrape I got 
you into ; so don’t worry about that I. O. U. I’ll 
burn it when I get home.” It was a relief to my 
mind to hear him, and I told him so, but said I 
should pay him, all the same, some time. The ac- 
tion was so friendly and unexpected, that I found 
myself telling him all about my struggles, though 
hitherto I had been somewhat shy of him. 

He laughed cynically, as he said, “Yes, it’s the 


46 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


usual story: piety and poverty on the one side; 
wickedness and wealth on the other.” 

“ It’s not always so,” urged I. 

“Not always, but generally,” he answered. 

“ But why,” he asked, “ why don’t you give up 
fighting for a mere chimera? The world owes 
you a living ; get it, honestly if you can, other- 
wise if you can’t ; but get it anyway.” 

“And how?” inquired I. 

He then divulged, what I had suspected, that 
he lived by cheating, and was familiar with packed 
cards and loaded dice. 

“ It’s not fair,” remonstrated I, “ it’s a blow be- 
low the belt business.” 

“ A blow below the belt business ! ” exclaimed 
he. “ What’s the object of all your great wars 
but victory ?’ And in the battle of life, success — 
no matter how gained — is everything.” 

“But the claims of conscience,” said I. 

“ Conscience,” sneered he ; “I said you were 
fighting for a chimera ; now you are frightened by 
a bug bear.” 

“No ! no! ” said I. 

“ Conscience,” continued he, “ the still small 
voice that never errs, yet sanctions infanticide in 
China, and censures it in Europe : that permits 
polygamy in the old and forbids it in the new dis- 
pensation : an infallible voice that infallibly dif- 
fers in different ages, and different places. Let’s 


STKUGGLES. 


47 


leave such misty matters to the theologians, and 
be content with all the sunshine we can get out of 
life. Come, my dear fellow, come,” and he grasped 
me by the arm. 

God knows, I was sorely tempted ; not so much 
by his specious arguments, as by a desire to escape 
from a condition, than which any change might 
be for the better. Why continue the unequal 
struggle any longer ? Life had been all rosy be- 
fore I reformed ; all thorny afterwards. 

I turned my face towards him, and saw — the 
sun shining serenely in the sky above. 

It was a message from heaven, to remind me 
of my vow. 

Again I saw my mother’s imploring hands, and 
again I cried, “ Mother, I will ! I will ! ” 

Ramsden was speechless from amazement: he 
must have thought me mad. 

“ No,” I said, “ I have sworn not to do these 
tilings, and, please God, I’ll fight it out to the 
end.” And I strode away, and left him to him- 
self. 

The above conversation has been given, that my 
readers — who are sufficiently interested to con- 
tinue — may see, in the account given further on, 
of the death of Ramsden, how grievously mis- 
taken he was, and how true it is, “ They who sow 
the wind shall reap the whirlwind.” When I got 
home Bob was there, and seeing how downhearted 


48 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


I was, he set to work to cheer me up by giving a 
very amusing account of his meeting with Polly, 
who was not married, when he paid Mrs. Wilson 
our old bill. 

Bob was a natural humorist, and soon had me 
laughing. Fortunately this world is neither all 
groans, nor all laughter, but a compound of both ; 
and, each in its place, is as good as the other. 

The most interesting news was that Mr. Blanch- 
ard had found him a situation with Mr. Wilcox. 
That was news indeed. And many were the in- 
quiries I made about Mr. Wilcox and Alice : how 
she looked? what she said? whether she asked 
about me ? and many others of a like nature : all 
of which Bob answered to my satisfaction. 

“ Master,” said Bob, at last, “ why don’t you 
call upon Mr. Blanchard. He might do something 
for you.” 

I promised to do so, but said I should first call 
upon my brother-in-law, to try and find out if he 
were at the bottom of the influence, which had 
been so adverse to me. 


THE QUARREL. 


49 


CHAPTER V. 

THE QUARREL. 

When I called upon my brother-in-law, it was 
fully half-an-hour before I was admitted to his 
private office, although his clerk, who had taken in 
my card, had said he was not engaged. The long 
wait did not improve my temper. 

As I entered the room, he merely raised his 
eyes from the paper he was reading, and motioned 
me to a seat. At last he condescended to say : 
“ Well, sir, to what am I indebted for this visit? ” 

The way in which I had been treated, and the 
coldly contemptuous tone in which he spoke, 
somewhat stung me to the quick. At least he 
might have thought, some natural anxiety to learn 
some particulars of the last hours of my parents, 
had prompted the visit ; but no, he seemed to look 
upon me as a mere outcast, destitute of feeling : 
a consideration all the more aggravating, when I 
thought how much he and his son had profited by 
my disgrace. 

Despite my efforts to keep calm, the worst ele- 
ments within me began to seethe and boil as I re- 
plied ; “ Oh, a mere friendly call ! It’s well for 
relatives to be on good terms with each other.” 

4 


50 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

“ Sometimes, but not in this case,” said he em- 
phatically. “The wheat and the tares must be 
separated. When a man’s conduct is such that 
his own parents discard him, he can hardly expect 
relatives, further removed, to take him to their 
arms.” 

“ And to whom,” retorted I, “ am I indebted 
for all this, but to you ? ” 

“ Say, rather,” replied he, “ your own evil con- 
duct, which humiliated your father, and brought 
your mother, with sorrow to the grave.” 

“ ’Tis false, as you well know ! ” said I ; “my 
mother died of a lingering complaint ; but such a 
charge is of a piece with your conduct for years 
past.” 

“ The world approves my conduct,” answered 
he. 

“ Yes, but the world does not know the inner 
facts, as I do,” said I. 

“ Come, come,” said he, “ we but bandy words, 
and waste time. Again I ask to what am I in- 
debted for this visit ? Do you come, as hereto- 
fore, as a libertine, for more money to feed your 
vices, or as a repentant prodigal? ” 

“ Neither,” replied I, “as a libertine, for I have 
repented and reformed, nor yet as a repentant 
prodigal, though I have come to my senses ; but as 
a man, willing, nay, anxious to earn an honest liv- 
ing, and who is willing to leave you undisturbed, 


THE QUARREL. 51 

provided he is permitted to pursue his way un- 
molested.” 

“ Unmolested ! ” he exclaimed, visibly paling. 
“ Really young man, you flatter yourself too 
much ; your doings have no interest for me, be- 
yond the discredit they bring upon the family.” 

“I have reason to think otherwise,” said I. 
“Twice have I dragged myself from the mire, 
only to be cast back, by some secret enemy, who 
knows my past life.” . 

“ This is arrant nonsense ! ” exclaimed he an- 
grily, “ and is nothing but an attempt to blame 
others for the natural consequences of your own 
folly. If you are hampered by your past here, 
why not go abroad ? ” 

Evidently he was anxious to get me out of the 
way. 

“ I have been abroad,” answered I, “ and ” 

“ Succeeded ! ” sneered he. 

“Yes, succeeded,” replied I, “and returned 
with a fortune, larger than that of which you and 
your son have robbed me.” 

“ And that fortune is where ? ” asked he, 
eagerly bending towards me. 

“ At the bottom of the sea,” answered I. 

“ Ah ! ” said he, with a sigh of relief, “ it’s al- 
ways so with men of your stamp ; the successes 
are transient, the failures permanent. Try 
again.” 


52 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


“ No,” said I, resolutely ; “ here have I fallen, 
and here will I work out my redemption.” 

“A fine resolution, and a fine prospect of work- 
ing it out,” mocked he ; 44 without money, without 
friends, without character.” 

44 But not without hope,” interrupted I. 

44 It will be a difficult ladder to climb,” con- 
tinued he, not heeding me. 44 Why not try some 
new field, where you are quite unknown? I 
might not be indisposed to help you, if you did.” 

Evidently, he was very anxious to get rid of 
me. 

44 No,” said I, decisively, “I came neither for 
your advice nor aid, but to warn you to meddle 
no more in my concerns.” 

44 Well, be it so!” said he, enraged at my re- 
fusal. “Take your own course, but blame me 
not, if you record rises to condemn you. And 
such a record, from the time you were expelled 
from college, to the time your conduct killed 
your mother.” 

Infuriated beyond control by the reiterated 
charge, I strode towards him, and looking him in 
the eye, I cried, 44 Man, for months I have tried to 
live a Christian life ; but dare to breathe even a 
hint of that foul charge again, and I’ll throttle 
the lie within your throat.” 

Ke fell back in terror before me. And then 
happened something very ludicrous. As he re- 


THE QUARREL. 


53 


treated, he fell backwards into a large waste 
paper basket behind him. He was doubled up : 
his body went down, and his legs came up, until 
his knees kissed his chin. In falling he grasped 
at the desk, but succeeded only in overturning 
the inkstand, the contents of which fell upon his 
bald pate, and ran in inky rivulets down his face 
and over his immaculate shirt front, while he 
wriggled and struggled, and swore, yes, actually 
swore, as he vainly strove to extricate himself 
from his wicker cage. My anger gave way to 
merriment, and I laughed until I was nearly as 
badly doubled up as he was. 44 Farewell ! ” said 
I at last, as I made him a parting bow, < 4 farewell, 
brave knight of the basket and the bottle. I’ll 
leave you to take your fill of both.” 

I was in much better spirits, notwithstanding 
the nature of my errand, as I entered Mr. Blanch- 
ard’s office a little later. He welcomed me quite 
warmly. Having told him of my ineffectual efforts 
to succeed, I said I had called to see if he could 
help me. 

44 Why,” said he, 44 you have called in the very 
nick of time. Only yesterday I received a letter 
from an old friend of mine — who is writing an 
historical work — that he wishes me to find him an 
amanuensis. He is a most excellent man, but 
rather hard to please, I’m afraid, as he has had 


54 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


several amanuenses, of whom he complains they 
took no interest in his work.” 

“ So many pages ; so much pay,” said I. 

“ His very words,” said the lawyer, surprised. 

“ He is writing, and has been writing for some 
years a history of the world,” continued I. 

“It's true ! ” he answered, still more astonished. 
“ You know him ? ” 

“ And more than that ; he has a daughter.” 

“ And a sweet, lovely girl she is,” he exclaimed. 
“ Now I know you know him.” 

“Yes; we met returning from Australia.” 

“ When they were shipwrecked? ” 

“Yes!” 

“ And saved? ” 

“ And saved,” answered I. 

“ Then you are the young man who saved 
them ? ” 

“ Bob and I had that honor,” replied I. 

“ Why Mr. Dayton, I’m delighted to hear it,” 
said he ; “ for among other flattering things Mr. 
Wilcox said you were the only man who appre- 
ciated the scope of his book.” 

I bowed, and smiled. 

“And Alice,” continued he, “ said ” 

“ Yes,” said I, eagerly. 

“ That — well, I think I had better let her speak 
for herself,” said the old gentleman with a merry 
twinkle in his eyes. It was soon arranged that on 


THE QUARREL. 


55 


the following day I should run down into the 
country, and see Mr. Wilcox. 

“ You spoke of some adverse influence, which, 
has pursued you,” said Mr. Blanchard. “Who 
could have been the author of it ? ” 

“ My brother-in-law, Mr. Rascom,” answered I 
promptly. “ I thought so before I called upon 
him this morning ; I am sure of it now.” 

I then gave an account of our interview, and 
the undignified position in which I had left my 
brother-in-law at it close. Usually the old lawyer 
was very dignified, but on this occasion he cast 
his dignity to the winds — they were both law*yers 
— and we laughed loudly and long in concert, 
until the tears ran down our cheeks, much to the 
scandal, no doubt, of the clerks in the outer office. 

“ Please God ! ” said the old man, as he wiped 
his eyes, “ some months hence we may have him 
in a worse position yet.” 

“ And now Mr. Dayton,” said he, “ once more 
let me impress upon you the importance, the vital 
importance of saving your money.” 

I puzzled my brains as to what he meant by 
this reiterated advice about saving my money, but 
failing to make head or tail of it, determined, as 
the advice was good, to follow it. 


56 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


CHAPTER VI. 

REST. 

Armed with a letter of introduction by Mr. 
Blanchard, I started for the residence of Mr. 
Wilcox. 

On the way there, the delight with which I 
looked forward to seeing Alice was tempered by 
misgivings as to what she might think of me, as 
an applicant for the position of amanuensis to her 
father. Though on shipboard, for obvious reasons, 
I had been somewhat reticent as to my past 
career, it was hardly in the role of an amanuensis 
she would think of me. 

However, the naked fact stood out : if I would 
earn my living honestly, I might as well be an 
amanuensis as anything else. The work would 
not degrade me, though I might degrade it. 

All misgivings were entirely removed by the 
hearty welcome both father and daughter gave 
me. After I had made known the object of my 
visit, and Mr. Wilcox had read Mr. Blanchard’s 
letter, he was kind enough to say : “ It was an 

ill wind that blew no one an}' good; ” and, while 
he regretted my ill fortune, he could not but 


REST. 


57 


think it a happy circumstance which had sent him 
one, whom, from previous knowledge, he knew 
would be invaluable to him. And Alice looked 
at me with those glorious eyes of hers, that smiled 
sympathy and support. 

Behold me then duly domiciled in the Wilcox 
abode. Tossed, as I had been, upon the cruel 
waves of life, and torn and tortured at every 
turn by failure and distrust, this quiet home 
seemed another Paradise. Each day endeared me 
more and more to the old gentleman’s heart, and 
fain would I think to his daughter’s also. 

Although more than a year had elapsed since 
he had told me, upon board ship, that he had just 
finished the third chapter of his book, yet now he 
was just beginning the fourth chapter. The rea- 
son of this tardy progress lay in the fact, that Mr. 
Wilcox insisted upon verifying, as far as possible, 
even the minutest fact that had the remotest bear- 
ing upon the main narrative. To that end every 
authority was consulted, indeed, we have spent 
weeks, wading through book after book that 
might possibly shed light upon the subject in 
hand. 

The trouble with my predecessors had been, 
after some weeks, they had been unable to keep 
up even a show of interest in the matter ; perhaps 
they failed to have the encouragement a pair of 
bright and sympathetic eyes afforded me. 


58 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


I made a computation one day, that, at the rate 
we were proceeding, we should have to far exceed 
the age of Methuselah before the book was fin- 
ished. 

At any rate Mr. Wilcox’s heart and soul were 
wrapped up in his beloved book. He thought of 
it by day, and dreamt of it by night, and was, 
withal, a man of such kindly heart and transpar- 
ent honesty, that the interest I had assumed in 
his labors became, to a large extent, real. 

Most of the morning, and part of the afternoon 
w^ere devoted to this work ; the rest of the day 
was my own, and was usually spent in the com- 
pany of Alice, in the garden, or in walking or rid- 
ing, if the weather permitted. 

Mr. Wilcox had a very large library, and it was 
there, among his beloved books, we three usually 
spent the evening. 

What dear, delightful times those were ! when 
the twilight was waning fast, before the shades 
were drawn, and the blazing fire sent warmth to 
our bodies, and comfort to our souls. Even now, 
as I look back, after many years, a halo surrounds 
those scenes. As the dancing firelight flashed 
here and there, lighting up the backs of the well- 
remembered books, sometimes, to my mental eye 
it seemed as though the goodly company, men of 
many minds, and times, and tongues, stepped 
down from their books, and trooped before me. 


REST. 


59 


Wrapped in reverie, looking np sometimes I 
caught the amused expression of Alice, as she 
watched me, and straightway 


“ the mighty dead, 

Whose spirits rule us from their ashes ” 

would vanish, vanquished by a single glance from 
a maiden’s eye. 

There was one evening I remember well ; for 
the events, simple as they seemed, played an im- 
portant part in my redemption later on. 

It was growing somewhat late, and Mr. Wilcox 
sat dozing in his chair, his eyes closed, and his 
mouth open, snoring. Alice sat reading on one 
side the table ; I, on the other, was busily em- 
ployed, finishing the last of three sketches I had 
made of her, in different positions. Having fin- 
ished, after cudgeling my brains, I had decided 
that a happy title would be, “ All the Graces ” ; 
when Mr. Wilcox, with a start, awoke. 

“ Dear me ! ” said he, as he rubbed his eyes, and 
the echoes of his last snore died away. “ Dear 
me ! you must have been asleep. I’m sure I heard 
somebody snore.” Then he looked at the clock. 
“ Eleven o’clock ! It is getting late ; I think I’ll 
retire,” and he moved towards the door. 

As he passed me he caught sight of the sketches. 
“ Why, Reginald,” said he, “ drawing again. You 


60 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

seem to draw a good deal lately. What’s the 
subject ? ” 

“ Only some lines of beauty, sir,” answered T, 
innocently. 

“ ‘ Only some lines of beauty,’ ” said the old 
gentleman, mimicking me. “ Why, as I’m alive, 
it looks like a woman’s face,” and he prepared to 
put on his spectacles. 

“ It might be that, sir,” replied I, demurely, 
“ and yet be the most entrancing lines of beauty a 
man ever drew.” 

“ So it might, you rogue you,” said he, laughing 
and shaking his head. “ Tom Moore was right: 

“ ‘ Disguise our bondage, as we will: 

’Tis woman, woman rules us still.’ ” 

By this time he had got on his spectacles. 

“ Why, it’s Alice ! ” said he, astonished, “ and 
very well drawn, too.” 

“ I had no idea,” said he, turning to me, “ that 
you were such an artist, Reginald.” 

“ No more am I,” replied I, “ but there’s inspi- 
ration in the subject,” and I looked at Alice. 

She blushed slightly, but answering nothing, 
walked to the table, and examined the sketches 
critically for a few moments. 

“ Yes, father, I think Mr. Dayton has made the 
most of a poor subject,” she said, and looked 
archly at me. 


REST. 


61 


“ Reginald had better sell them to us,” answered 
he, “ and when I go to London, I’ll get them 
framed.” 

“ Sell them ? ” said I, laughingly. 

“Why, yes,” said Alice, “don’t you think 
they’re worth anything?” and then, in a business- 
like tone, as though she were driving a bargain, 
she inquired, “ What’s your price sir?” 

Entering into the joke, I answered, as I placed 
them in her hands, “ Considering the subject, 
they’re dirt cheap at <£400.” 

“All right,” said she, in the same merry manner, 
“ we’ll take them,” and she rolled them up and 
placed them in a drawer of the table. 

“ Good night, children, and don’t stay up too 
long,” said her father, as he closed the door. 

Alice immediately devoted herself to her book. 
In vain I made various attempts to attract atten- 
tion ; coughing, rustling the papers, opening and 
shutting the drawers. She read steadily on. 
Grown desperate I opened a book, and after read- 
ing a few minutes, threw it down, and gave it such 
a resounding thwack, that she fairly jumped from 
her chair in surprise. 

“ What do you mean, sir,” she asked, “ treating 
the book so ?” 

“What do I mean?” answered I, “why it’s 
rank heresy ! This fellow has stolen an idea from 
the ancients, and has the audacity to say, ‘ Neither 


62 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


the weather, nor the waves, nor women are to 
be trusted.’ ” 

“ I don’t see anything very dreadful in that,” 
she answered ; “ I remember the last picnic I went 
to. No day could have been more charming. 
The sun shone, and the sky was cloudless, and 
yet, before we reached home it rained in torrents. 
I was drenched to the skin, my dress ruined, 
and I caught such a cold, that the cough shook me 
to pieces.” 

“ Shook you to pieces ! ” said I pityingly. 
“ What diffused beauty ! ” 

“ And as for the sea,” continued she, not notic- 
ing what I had said, “I’m sure, unless I were 
tired of life, 1 wouldn’t trust myself upon it 
again. We had enough of that dreadful ship- 
wreck.” 

“Yes,” said I, “but there are plenty of ship- 
wrecks upon land, for that matter.” 

“ Shipwrecks upon land ! ” echoed she. 

“ Yes,” said I, sadly, “ shipwrecks of fame and 
fortune, and, worst of all, shipwrecks of hearts. 
Argosys freighted with hearts, sailing o’er a sea 
of love, with ‘ Cupid for a pilot, and matrimony for 
a haven ’ are often shipwrecked, sometimes in sight 
of port.” 

“ And no wonder,” she replied. “ It’s a miracle 
how any vessel freighted with such a cargo, should 
float at all. It would surely be host from want of 


BEST. 


63 


proper ballast. Never a total loss ; for probably 
in most cases, the salvage would be greater than 
the original value. A pleasant prospect truly, 
especially for the feminine voyagers,” said she, 
mimicking me ; “ sailing o’er a sea of love, with 
such heroic, heavy, not to say manly hearts as to 
sink the ship.” 

Now I’ve done for myself, thought I ; never 
yet was woman won by whining. 

“But,” asked I, “what do you think of what 
he says about women ? ” 

“ Simply,” she answered, “ it was a man who 
wrote ; had it been a woman with greater truth 
she would have said men could not be trusted. 
I don’t know much of the world, but I have read, 
“ Men are deceivers ever.”’ 

“ There are exceptions,” said I. 

“ Like angels visits, few and far between,” said 
she. 

“Present company ? ” queried I. 

“ Probably,” said she slowly. 

“Oh, miss!” said I, eagerly, “you don’t know 
how happy you have made me. I value your 
good opinion so much, that I hope the time will 
come when you will call me your own ” 

“Reginald!” said the old gentleman, as he 
opened the door and walked in, candle in hand. 

“ Yes, that’s it, but I would sooner have said 
it myself,” muttered I. 


64 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

Alice could scarcely restrain her laughter at 
my disgust. 

“ Reginald ! ” repeated Mr. Wilcox, “ I thought 
before I retired, I would get you to read me again 
those two references Herodotus makes to his 
Assyrian treatise. The book is here,” and he sat 
down. 

I was so irritated by the interruption, I could 
not forbear, as I walked around the table towards 
him, giving a small china image of a dog, that was 
near the hearth, such a savage kick that it fell to 
pieces. 

Alice rushed forward, and gathered up the frag, 
ments, exclaiming : 4 * Oh, the pretty image of my 
poor, lost Flora, all broken to pieces ! ” 

As I assisted her. to gather up the pieces, I 
said : 

“ I’m sorry and ashamed I should have ” 

“ Kicked my dog to pieces,” said she, spite- 
fully. 

“ Don’t make such a fuss about a bit of plaster,” 
said the old gentleman. “ Come, Reginald.” 

“ Well, sir,” said she, as she moved towards the 
door, “ I hope you’ll feel better, now you have 
thumped the book, and kicked the dog. I’ll wish 
you good night, and leave you,” with a satirical 
smile, and a wave of her hand towards her wait- 
ing father, “ to the enjoyment of Herodotus.” 

“ Come, come, Reginald,” called the old gentle- 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


65 


man impatiently, “never mind that miserable 
puppy — the Assyrian treatise is what we want.” 

“Yes, sir,” said I, resignedly, as I sat down be- 
side him, “ it’s the Assyrian treatise we want, if 
it’s not been lost, as many suppose,” and I added 
under my breath, “ and as I devoutly wish.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE UNEXPECTED. 

In tropical climes when the sky is clear, and all 
is peace, sometimes, in a few moments, a storm 
will arise that deals desolation and death around. 
With me the days had glided peacefully and 
happily away, but the storm unexpectedly came. 

One morning, at the breakfast table, Mr. Wil- 
cox said, as he handed his daughter a letter: 
“ Here, my dear, is a letter from an old friend of 
your mother’s, Mrs. Rascom. She proposes, with 
her son, to pay us a visit for a few weeks, just for 
the sake of old times. You remember we met 
them in London frequently when your mother 
was alive.” 

“ Oh, yes, papa, I remember them well, and 
think the son is the nicer of the two,” answered 
Alice. 

“Well, my dear,” said he, “she was your dear 

5 


66 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

mother’s friend, so we must do our best to make 
them comfortable.” 

Had a thunderbolt dropped from a clear sky, I 
could not have been more startled. 

My stepsister coming, and her son too ; he who 
had defrauded me of my birthright, and, worse 
than all, knew my past career. What would 
Alice think, when she knew that career? as know 
she would. The enmity which had relentlessly 
pursued me before would not spare me now. 
Perhaps, nay, certainly, it was for the purpose of 
exposing me they were coming. 

What should, what could, what ought I to do? 

“ Tell her all,” said my heart, “ and let them 
do their worst ” 

Yes, that were best. But when I bethought 
myself how Puritanical Alice was, of the severe 
judgments she had passed upon some authors we 
had discussed in the past, I simply dare not ; it 
seemed like pronouncing my own doom. Per- 
haps, after all, it was not so bad as I expected ; 
anyway, I would wait and see. Thus the golden 
opportunity passed away. 

Oh, the misery of those few days of suspense ! 

Despite my utmost endeavors I could not be 
the same as usual. Alice asked if I were ill, and 
the almost tender solicitude she showed, only 
made me feel how much I might lose when she 
knew all. 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


67 


They came, and as I walked into the room to 
meet them, my courage, which had sunk at the 
imaginary, rose in the presence of the real dan- 
ger. 

“Allow me, Reginald,” said Mr. Wilcox, “to 
introduce you to some friends of ours : Mrs. Ras- 
com and her son.” As we bowed to each other — 
one glance was enough — it was to be war to the 
knife. 

“An introduction is scarcely necessary, Mr. 
Wilcox,” said I, unconcernedly, “seeing that we 
are already known, thoroughly known, I might 
say, to each other.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said Alice. “ I had no idea you 
had the pleasure of being acquainted.” 

“ Oh yes, we have had that pleasure,” answered 
I, with marked emphasis upon pleasure. “ How 
could it be otherwise, seeing that we are related.” 

“ Related ! ” exclaimed Mr. Wilcox, in surprise. 

“ Yes, unfortunately by the second marriage of 
my father,” said Mrs. Rascom, in a tone as much 
as to say, “Thank Heaven, it’s no nearer.” 

“ By a second marriage, unfortunately, as the 
lady says, Mr. Wilcox,” echoed I; “indeed, I 
have the honor to be half-brother to Mrs. Rascom, 
and whatever relationship that may involve to 
this gentleman,” indicating her son by a wave of 
the hand. 

As it was becoming evident “ relations are best 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


apart.” Mr. Wilcox hastened to change the sub- 
ject by inquiring after some friends they had met 
in London. Thus ended the first skirmish, some- 
what in my favor. Our relationship had been 
made known, and it had been shown we were not 
altogether enraptured of each other. The latter 
fact might break the force of whatever might be 
said to my discredit. Day by day it became 
clearer they had come with the deliberate purpose 
of humiliating, and, if possible, driving me from 
the house. 

And day by day Rascom’s attentions to Alice 
became more marked. They affected to treat me 
as an inferior. 

Mrs. Rascom would say, as though speaking to 
a servant, “Dayton, bring me that book,” or 
“Dayton, close the window, there is too much 
draught.” 

Every command I obeyed with unfailing court- 
esy, to the manifest surprise of Alice, who was 
puzzled to tell if such conduct were born of famil- 
iarity or contempt. But the line had to be drawn 
somewhere. 

As I was quietly reading one morning, Rascom 
said : 

“ Dayton, I’ve left some letters upon the library 
table ; run down and get them.” 

I paid not the slightest attention to him. 

“ You, Dayton there, I say,” said he, in a higher 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


69 


key, “run down, and get those letters for me, 
upon the library table.” 

He might have been dead for any difference it 
made to me. Alice, however, quietly rose, and 
rang the bell. “ Jane,” said she, when the girl 
appeared, “ Mr. Rascom wishes you to do some- 
thing.” Rather shamefacedly Rascom made his 
request. The letters having been delivered, Alice 
turned to him, with quiet dignity, and said : “ Mr. 
Dayton is staying with us, not only in the capac- 
ity of amanuensis to my father, but as our friend. 
Is that not so, papa ? ” and she appealed to her 
father. 

“ Why, bless my soul, yes ! ” answered the old 
gentlemen. “ I esteem it an honor to have the as- 
sistance of Reginald ; indeed, w'e are under obliga- 
tions to him, we can never repay.” All of which 
was gall and wormwood to my enemies. They were 
baffled, not defeated, and returned to the charge a 
few days later, when the conversation, by the 
clever maneuvering of Mrs. Rascom, was turned 
to the subject of gambling, which Mr. Wilcox did 
not hesitate to condemn, as being ruinous in every 
way ; and even Alice, with that pretty severity to 
which I have alluded, added her voice to the gen- 
eral condemnation. 

“ As you justly say, Mr. Wilcox,” said Rascom, 
“gambling is ruinous in every way, and yet how 
many young men there are who indulge in it.” 


70 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

“ There is, unfortunately, no doubt about that,” 
said Mr. Wilcox. 

“ It is strange,” continued Rascom, “ that we 
should have fallen on this subject. By a curious 
coincidence, only this morning, among my papers, 
I came across a clipping from an old newspaper, 
which confirms what you say. Shall I read 
it?” 

“ Certainly,” said Mr. Wilcox, somewhat flat- 
tered. 

Rascom began : 

“ ‘ The usually quiet atmosphere of club, 

was rudely disturbed last evening by voices in 
violent altercation. The epithets ‘ cheat ’ and 
‘ liar ’ were freely bandied about by four young 
men, who had been playing cards, at one of the 
side tables. For obvious reasons, we forbear to 
mention names, though all the parties are well 
known in such circles. 

“ ‘ The one who was detected in cheating, is a 
well-known man about town, who for some years 
has lived by gambling. His partner, and presum- 
ably his accomplice, is a young man of good 

family in . Two years ago he was expelled 

from college, and since then, much to his mother’s 
distress, and father’s anger, he has been leading a 
fast life, which may end in his disinheritance. 

“ ‘ Though the young man was grossly intoxi- 
cated, it is but just to add, he emphatically de- 
nied he was in any sense guilty. 

“ 4 The affair has created a profound sensation.’ ” 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


71 


“ As you sa}^ the account bears out what I con- 
tended,” said Mr. Wilcox. 

“ Yes, father, but only think of the sorrow of 
the poor mother,” exclaimed Alice. 

“It was, indeed, a sad case, Miss Wilcox,” said 
Rascom. “ September 15th, 18 — ,” continued he, 
looking at the paper. “ Why that must have been 
the very time you were in London, Mr. Dayton, 
was it not? Did you know any of the parties 
concerned ? ” 

“ Yes,” said I, confusedly, as I saw all eyes bent 
upon me. “I was in London at the time, and the 
affair did create a sensation.” 

With all my self-control, confused I was. The 
shaft had gone home. 

The air seemed thick. I felt I should choke if 
I stayed there ; and it was with feelings of relief, 
I heard Alice ask if we would like some skating 
on the morrow. A small stream near the house 
was frozen over, and there was excellent skating. 

We caught at the invitation, and for the time 
being, I escaped. 


72 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

UNMASKED. 

The morning was clear and cold, as we wended 
our way towards the frozen stream. 

There had been a little dispute, at starting, be- 
tween Rascom and I, as to which of us should 
carry Alice’s skates. She had laughingly ended 
the matter, by saying I might carry them there, 
and he could bring them back. 

Whether it was the slight victory, or the change 
from indoors to the cold, bracing air outside I 
know not, but I was certainly in exuberant spirits, 
and all the audacity of my nature came out. 
Calmly, coolly, as a matter of course, I said and 
did things, which, while they amazed Alice, filled 
my rival with suppressed rage. 

And Alice, too, precise Puritanic as she was, 
after a time became infected, and with that love 
of coquetry which is as natural to woman, as a 
spice of the devil is to man — was evidently not 
insensible to the fact that she had two men at her 
feet. When we arrived at the edge of the stream, 
the dispute was, not figuratively but literally, 
which of us should be at her feet. 


UNMASKED. 


78 


I stoutly contended, as I had been commissioned 
to carry her skates, my duty was not over until I 
had affixed them to her shoes. Rascoin, whose 
anger was getting the worse of him, violently as- 
serted that was his duty. 

Mad as we were, we became madder, as, with a 
pretty assumption of judicial impartiality, she 
weighed our rival claims; now inclining to one 
side, and then to the other ; for no other earthly 
purpose, I verily believe, than to witness her 
power over us. At last, in tones of mock solem- 
nity she said : “ Upon due consideration of op- 

posing reasons, I do adjudge that it is thy duty, 
Reginald Dayton, to affix the skates to my shoes ; 
such labor being implied, if not explicitly stated, 
in the original contract,” and she placed her foot 
upon the trunk of a fallen tree. 

I lingered as long as I dared over the labor of 
love, my joy being the greater at my rival’s evi- 
dent discomfiture. 

No sooner were the skates upon her feet, than, 
with base ingratitude, she started as fast as she 
could up the winding stream, leaving us to follow 
as best we could. She was an expert skater, and 
when, utterly out of breath, we did overtake her, 
she turned, and said, as demurely as possible : 

“ Why, gentlemen, one would think I were some 
poor, innocent lamb, pursued by two hungry 
wolves, anxious to devour me.” 


74 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAI. 


Like one possessed with the spirit of mischief, 
she darted in all directions, up and down the 
stream, while we, as she had aptly said, like hun- 
gry wolves, chased after her ; the lucky one, who 
first overtook her being rewarded by the clasp of 
her hand, for a few moments, as she skated 
along. 

Then she took to skating soberly and slowly 
with each in turn. 

Then, again, as the spirit moved her, she would 
execute all sorts of maneuvers upon the ice. At 
the close of a very brilliant one I asked her if she 
could dance. 

“ Dance ! did you say, sir ! ” she exclaimed, in 
mock horror. “ Don’t you know that my father’s 
abhorrence of dancing, is second only to his 
hatred of gambling?” and she cast a glance, out 
of the side of her eye, at Rascom. 

“ But then,” she added, looking at me, “ danc- 
ing out here in the open air, can’t be near as 
wicked as dancing in a ballroom. We might 
try.” 

And in a few minutes, we were whirling 
through the delightful mazes of a waltz. 

Rascom claimed one also. 

“Why, Mr. Rascom,” said she, “you astonish 
me. I should never have thought, with such 
lofty ideas as you have, you would have descended 
to such trivial things.” 


UNMASKED. 75 

He made some low rejoinder that he would de- 
scend to anything for her sake. 

I stood aside, near the bank, and watched them 
as they danced. While I was thinking how few 
of us there are, who enjoy seeing another fellow- 
take his innings, as much as we do taking our 
own, I was startled by the cracking of the ice, 
almost beneath my feet ; at the same moment 
Alice was hurled towards me. I had barely 
caught her in my arms, and gained the bank, be- 
fore the ice broke up. Looking back, when we 
had recovered breath, we saw Rascom, flat upon 
his back upon a floating cake of ice, which had 
become detached from the rest. The violence 
with which Alice had been separated, or thrown 
from him, in his endeavor to save himself, had 
sent him backwards. 

After some ineffectual efforts he succeeded in 
gaining his feet. As he did so, it was laughable 
in the extreme — as the cake of ice rocked up and 
down — to see his frantic struggles to keep his 
equilibrium, and avoid slipping into the water. 

“Get near the middle, and take off your skates, 
and jump for it,” shouted I. 

He did as directed, and divested himself of his 
skates; but the fun had only just begun. No 
sooner had he got as near the edge of the cake 
as he dared, with the intention of jumping to the 
solid ice, than the cake would tilt, the end upon 


76 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


which he stood becoming submerged, and the 
opposite end raised out of the water. Finding 
himself sinking, back he would run to the other 
end, when the same thing would occur again. 

The like of such a game of seesaw was never 
seen before. “ Now, man, run quickly, and jump 
before she sinks ! ” I shouted. 

As he tried to do so, the same thing occurred 
again, and the way in which his arms and legs 
went sprawling around, and the desperate efforts 
he made to get back to the middle of the cake 
were so ludicrous, that human nature couldn’t 
stand it. We laughed until the tears rolled down 
our cheeks. 

“ Oh, Mr. Rascom,” cried Alice, with mock 
commiseration. “ You are so slow. Try again : 
take a flying leap.” 

Thus urged, the poor fellow made another effort, 
with the same result ; and again we went into an- 
other paroxysm of laughter, in the midst of which 
Alice grasped me by the arm, and pulling down 
my head, whispered : “ It’s not more than three 

feet deep anywhere.”* 

Tired out by his fruitless efforts, Rascom 
whined : 

“ Why don’t you try and help me ; instead of 
standing there laughing ? ” 

“You had better take off your shoes and coat, 
and swim ashore,” said I. 


TTNM ASKED. 77 

“ I can’t swim, and the water’s cold,” com- 
plained he. 

“Well, lay down flat, and paddle the cake 
ashore,” advised I. 

“ Yes, that’s a good idea,” said Alice. 

With infinite caution he laid himself flat upon 
his stomach ; his heels pointing towards the 
centre of the cake, and his head towards the 
edge. When he began to paddle with his hands 
— as I had forseen — the cake began to revolve, 
and the harder he worked the quicker it spun 
around; while I shouted directions in the true 
Thames style : 

“ Starboard, larboard, back her,” etc. 

The situation was too comical : it would have 
upset the gravity of a saint, and again we were 
convulsed with laughter. 

When he had managed to get on his feet again 
I cried : “ I’ve got it this time. Don’t you see 

the wind is blowing this way? Take off your 
coat, and make a sail of it, and the wind will blow 
you ashore.” 

The idea seemed feasible ; so he took off his 
coat, and spread it out with his arms, much as a 
mastado would his cloak in a Spanish bull fight. 
At first he made some little progress, but the 
broken pieces of ice between the cake and the 
shore, closed up, and he came to a standstill. By 


78 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


this time, between terror and cold, he was a piti- 
able object indeed. 

“ Why don’t you save me, and not leave me 
here to perish ? ” he whined, as his teeth chattered 
with the cold. 

I saw Alice had become ashamed of her share 
in the proceedings, and, much as I disliked him, I 
thought he had had enough. 

“Wait a minute,” said I, “and I’ll get you 
ashore.” 

I started off on the run to a boathouse a few 
rods away, and returned with a coil of rope I 
found there. 

“ Now then, stand ready there, to make fast,” 
shouted I, whirling one end of the rope towards 
him. After a few trials he caught it. 

“ Go ahead, and haul in,” said I, as I held the 
other end of the rope and braced myself tight. 
In a few minutes he sprang ashore, and turning 
upon me with a glance of hatred, truly devilish, 
he muttered, so that only I could hear : “ ’Tis 

your turn to day ; mine will come soon.” 

He then claimed the fulfilment of the promise 
that he should carry Alice’s skates home. She 
willingly assented, and was so kind and attentive 
to him all the way home, to the exclusion of my- 
self, as if anxious to make amends, that the demon 
of jealousy began to rage within my breast. 


JEALOUSY. 


79 


CHAPTER IX. 

JEALOUSY. 

My duties with Mr. Wilcox, after our return 
home, proving more onerous than usual, it was 
late in the afternoon before we assembled to- 
gether. 

Whether Alice were still ashamed of her con- 
duct, or afraid she had shown undue preference 
for me, I know not ; but certain it was, the atten- 
tions she showed Rascom were very marked, and 
tinged with a degree of humility unusual with 
her. 

All the little offices, which it had been mine to 
render, were now monopolized by my relative, 
while I, like Hagar, sat afar off, mourning. Not 
but what I was willing to be comforted ; and as 
the evening wore away, and the comfort came 
not, the feeling of sorrow was superseded by that 
of jealousy, at the undisguised favor shown my 
rival, who was undeniably a handsome man. It 
had long been the habit of Alice and myself to 
continue reading or conversing in the library 
after Mr. Wilcox had retired for the night ; nor 
had the presence of company interfered with that 


SO PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

arrangement. As I sat, later on, wondering if 
this night would prove an exception to the rule, 
the door gently opened, and Alice entered. As 
she took the chair I placed for her, I noticed she 
w T as paler than usual. 

After we had made a pretense of reading for a 
few minutes, she turned towards me, and without 
any introduction whatever, said: “Well, Mr. 
Dayton, I don’t know what you — as a man — may 
think, but I — as a woman — feel we ought to be 
heartily ashamed of our treatment of Mr. Ras- 
com.” 

“You pity him, perhaps?” queried I. 

“ Yes, I pity him,” answered she. 

“And pity,” said I, all the jealousy of the 
evening rankling within me, “ and pity the poets 
say is akin to love.” 

“ The poets, like others, often say very foolish 
things,” retorted she, sharply, “ besides, we are 
not talking of poetry, but of practice,” and then 
she added more gently, “ Didn’t I pity you the 
other day, when Mr. Rascom treated you so 
badly ? ” 

“ You did, indeed,” answered I, eagerly, “ and 
— and, I wish — I wish the poets always spoke the 
truth.” 

She caught my meaning, and blushed to the 
temples. 

Recovering herself with an effort, she said : 


JEALOUSY. 


81 


u This is utterly beside the question : I think we 
ought to apologize to Mr. Rascom.” 

“ You may, if you like, because he is — your 
friend. I shall not, because lie is — my enemy,” 
answered I. 

“All the more reason then why you should 
apologize,” she said. 

“ I have not attained that lofty height as yet ; 
with me a blow upon one cheek is enough,” an- 
swered I ; “ besides, if a man chooses to make an 
exhibition of himself, and show himself a coward 
to boot, it’s his business, not mine. Why didn’t 
he swim ashore ? ” 

“lie said he couldn’t swim*>” 

“ Why didn’t he wade ashore? You know the 
water was not more than three feet deep. You 
told me so yourself.” 

“ He didn’t know that.” 

“ Then why didn’t he paddle or sail ashore ? ” 

“ You know, full well, he could do neither.” 

“ Then,” cried I, angered by her seeming de- 
fense of him, “ if he could neither sail nor swim, 
nor wade nor paddle ashore, why in heaven’s name 
didn’t he say his prayers, and go to the bottom.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Dayton ! ” she cried, horrified. “ I 
wouldn’t have thought you capable of saying such 
things.” 

Thinking I had gone too far, I said : “ I’m 

sorry I made such fun of him, but, after all, I 


82 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


pulled him ashore, and,” continued I, contemp- 
tuously, “ such a petty little stream, too,” and in- 
voluntarily my mind reverted to that other scene, 
upon the restless deep, when I had rescued Alice 
from the sinking ship. 

No doubt, too, her mind reverted back ; for 
there was a pause of a few minutes before she 
said, quite gently : 

“All men are not constitutionally courageous.” 

“ No, any more than all men are constitutionally 
selfish,” replied I, irritated that she should imply 
that courage was simply a physical attribute. 

“Mr. Rascom and yourself are related?” she 
inquired. 

“ His mother’s father was mine.” 

“ And yet you do not agree? ” 

“ It is the melancholy truth ! ” 

“ He seems an estimable young man ; at least 
his mother says so.” 

“ Mothers usually do ; and we are all estimable, 
until we are found out.” 

“Yes, that’s the trouble with men, generally, 
some of my friends say,” assented she. “We meet 
them, sometimes in society, sometimes at our 
homes, and to all intents and purposes, they are 
estimable, but what do we know of their past 
lives? They may have been gamblers, or profli- 
gates, or both, for aught we know,” and she gave 
me a piercing glance. 


JEALOUSY. 


83 


Stung to the quick by what I thought her sus- 
picions, though it might have been only my own 
guilty conscience, I replied warmly: “Well, for 
my part, give me the man, who having crossed 
the border line, which divides right from wrong, 
realizes and repents his error, and stays ever 
afterwards well within that line ; rather than 
he, who; like a tight ropedancer, sways one side 
or the other, as passion or self-interest may in- 
cline.” 

“ Why so much warmth, Mr. Dayton ? you are 
not defending yourself,” said Alice. “ But the 
trouble is,” she continued, “ such men are like 
volcanoes. After one or more eruptions, their 
fires are not quenched, but simply smoulder, and 
may burst forth again, at any moment.” 

“ Not if they truly repent.” 

“But how shall we know they truly repent?” 

“ By their deeds.” 

“ Exactly ! ” said she ; “ and now we get back 
to the point from which we started. We both re- 
pent — you have admitted you were sorry — why 
not apologize ? By their deeds you know ” 

I was fairly caught. 

It is hard to say what I would have answered, 
had there not have been a rap upon the door, and 
Rascom, book in hand, entered. 

Ignoring me, completely, he advanced towards 
Alice, and said: “ You will excuse me disturbing 


84 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


you ; I came to return my book,” and he smiled 
tenderly upon her. 

Again jealousy rose in arms within me. I 
placed my hand abruptly upon his shoulder, and 
turned his face towards mine. “ Miss Wilcox,” 
said I, “ has asked me to apologize for my treat- 
ment of you. I refused, but have now changed my 
mind.” Alice looked at me with sparkling eyes. 

“ Yes, Mr. Rascom, I wish to express my sin- 
cere regret for everything I did to you this morn- 
ing. Under like circumstances, I would never do 
so again.” As I had saved his life — as he thought 
— among other things, I was really apologizing for 
having done so, and promising never ' to do so 
again. 

He was so elated, at what he thought ni} r hu- 
miliation, he did not see the full force of the 
words. 

Alice, more quick-witted, saw it all. 

Before he could say anything, I continued : 
“ Now, Mr. Rascom, it is growing very late. We 
had better not detain Miss Wilcox any longer,” 
and I coolly walked him from the room. 

As I heard his retreating footsteps, and turned 
in the open doorway to bid Alice good night, she 
confronted me, and with a look, in which admi- 
ration and displeasure were equally blended, she 
plucked me by the sleeve, and in a voice that 
trembled with excitement, she said : 


THE THREAT. 


85 


“ Reginald Dayton — you — you are utterly in- 
corrigible,” 

I took the hand that rested upon my arm, and 
pressing it to my lips, with merry audacity re- 
plied : 

“Alice Wilcox — you — you are entirely angelic.” 

And happy were my dreams that night. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE THREAT. 

The following morning as I sat in an arbor, 
some distance from the house, ruminating over my 
hard lot, and inwardly blaming my folly of yester- 
day, in still further embittering my enemy against 
me, I looked up, and saw Rascom regarding me. 

“ I missed you yesterday, but I’ve found you at 
last,” said he, “ and it is well ; for it is time we 
understood each other, and settled up accounts. 
Yesterday, you had your innings : to-day I take 
mine.” 

As I made no reply, he asked maliciously : 
“ Pray, why, the other day, did you not enlighten 
Miss Wilcox — Alice, I mean — as to your share in 
that card cheating affair ? ” 

“ You know very well why I did not,” an- 
swered I. 

“ Possibly,” replied he, “ but I thought the in- 


86 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


formation might come with more grace from the 
lips of one of the principals, than from mine.” 

“And why should you enlighten her? ” 

“ Because as her future husband, I would pro- 
tect her from those who sail under false colors.” 

“ Her would-be future husband,” retorted I, 
“ but what of the claims of others ? ” 

“ Your own, for instance,” sneered he. 

“ Yes, my own, why not?” answered I. “ What- 
ever I may have been in the past, to-day I am as 
good a man as you, and entitled to as fair a chance 
of winning her hand.” 

“ You think so,” replied he. “ W-ell, there’s 
nothing like being modest. Let’s see how the 
case stands : She is rich ; you are poor ” 

“ Because you stole my birthright,” interrupted 
I, bitterly. 

“ No matter why ; )^ou are poor,” answered he. 
“ She is lovely, virtuous, and bears an honorable 
name ; and what are you, by your own confession, 
nothing but a repentant rake.” 

“ Better be a repentant rake than an unrepent- 
ant hypocrite,” retorted I. 

“ Meaning me, of course,” replied he ; “the dif- 
ference, however, between us lays here : my hy- 
pocrisy cannot be proven ; whereas your immoral- 
ity can be made patent to all.” 

“ In what way?” 

“ There is the newspaper report of the cheating, 


THE THREAT. 


87 


and the reference to the family. Then, 

there is my word that you are the guilty man,” 
answered he. 

“ You said, but a moment ago, there was noth- 
ing like being modest. It would appear so, for 
you think the unsupported word of the would-be 
husband would weigh more with the lady, fhan 
that of the repentant rake. She would not be- 
lieve you.” 

“ If she did not, there would be the testimony 
of the three others concerned ; Cochrane and 
Rogers, your victims, and of your accomplice, 
Ramsden, who confessed his guilt.” 

“ Cochrane has been dead nearly a year, and 
the last that was heard of Rogers, he was lost in 
the interior of Africa ; and, as for Ramsden, he is 
a self-confessed gambler and cheat, and his word 
would not weigh more than yours.” 

“ What about the corroborative proof your past 
life would afford ? ” 

“ If you drive me to extremities, I shall confess 
it ; and as proof of repentance, shall point to my 
conduct during the time they have known me.” 

“ Dear me, Reginald,” sneered he, “ you seem 
to have everything cut and dried. It were a pity 
to spoil so lovely a programme, but it must be 
done. You stand in my way, man, now, as you 
have done before, and you must be thrown aside. 
You must leave here.” 


88 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


“ And what if I refuse ? ” asked I, my anger 
rising. 

“ Then I shall compel you.” 

I laughed aloud. “ Compel me ! ” said I, as I 
walked towards him, and looked him in the eye. 
“ Compel me ! ’twere easier said than done. No 
man, and least of all, you, shall compel me to do 
what I would not.” 

“ So be it,” answered he. “ Now, for the last 
time, I ask, will you quit here, and leave Alice to 
me?” 

“ No, I will not,” answered I, as I clinched my 
teeth. 

“ Then I must make yon,” said he, and he drew 
from his pocket a slip of paper, which he held be- 
fore my eyes. 

“ Do you know that signature ? ” 

It was the I. O. U. for £200 I had given Rams- 
den on that dreadful night, September 14th, and 
the signature was — my own. 

I was paralyzed, crushed at the resurrection of 
this proof of my guilt. 

Ramsden had assured me he would destroy it ; 
and now it was in the possession of m} T bitterest 
enemy, as damning evidence against me. 

He watched me with a cruel smile. 

“ Now,” said he at last, “ hear my ultimatum : 
Quit here within three days— before next Satur- 
day — and leave Alice to me, and this paper shall 


THE THREAT. 


89 


be destroyed, and no more shall be said or done. 
Stay here, and if before that time the I. O. U. be 
not paid, it shall be laid, with corroborative proofs, 
before Mr. Wilcox. Then,” he added, signifi- 
cantly, “ there will be no choice about departing.” 

Depart, and leave Alice, my Alice, yes mine ; 
for had I not rescued her from a watery grave, to 
him. ’Twere wCrse than the bitterness of death, 
and I groaned in agony of spirit. 

“ Man, man ! ” I cried, “have you no pity nor 
compunction left ? You robbed me of my birth- 
right, and now would rob me of my love ! ” 

“ Look here,” answered he, and he pointed to 
the scar upon his forehead my hand had made. 
“ Look here ; you set a mark upon me that all 
can see, and that I shall bear to my dying day. I, 
too, will set a mark upon thee — a mark upon thy 
heart — which, though none may see, shall rankle, 
and rankle there, until thy death.” 

“ Oh, God ! ” I cried. “ Is there no spot upon 
all this broad earth, where a man, who has fallen, 
may rise regenerated, untrammeled by former 
sins? ” 

“ Not here, not here,” said he. 

“ And, as for thee,” said I, who hast, time 
after time, hounded me from place to place, as for 
thee, though in thy mother’s veins runs my 
father’s blood, I say, thou avt an accursed vil- 
lain!” 


90 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


“ Remember Saturday : the money or the ex- 
posure,” was all he said, as he left me to my mis- 
erable self. 


CHAPTER XT. 

TEMPTATION. 

Little by little affairs had grown darker, and 
slowly but surely, the meshes of the net tightened 
around me. Look which ever way I would, there 
seemed no loophole of escape, save by leaving my 
enemy in possession of the field, and that, while 
life lasted, I would never do. What, indeed, 
were life worth, unless Alice shared it? The 
love, born on board ship, strengthened by the 
dangers through which we had passed, and still 
further increased by our constant intercourse, was 
now a consuming passion. 

And yet, within a few days, I might lose all 
hope of its return ; for that Alice would love 
where she did not respect, was a hopeless idea. 

Three days only ! If the money were not paid 
then, the I. O. U. would be laid before Mr. Wil- 
cox, and the circumstances under which it was 
given made known, together with that false ac- 
cusation of cheating, which would appear its fit- 
ting accompaniment. I might have shirked my 
shoemaker’s bill, or failed to pay my tailor with 
impunity — as many do— but not to have paid “ a 


TEMPTATION. 


91 


debt of honor ” would have stamped me degraded 
indeed. 

No, the money must be paid. But how? £200, 
and all I had in the world was a little over £100. 
My next quarter’s salary would not be due for 
two months, and even then I should fall short of 
the amount. Could I borrow the money ? Per- 
haps Bob, dear, faithful old Bob, might have it. 
No, he could not possibly have near the amount. 

There was Alice’s father. No, that were, indeed, 
to confirm whatever might be charged against me. 

There was Mr. Blanchard, the family solicitor. 
No, it were absurd to suppose, with his knowledge 
of my past life, that he would trust his money in 
my hands. Of all my former associates, men with 
whom I had gambled and drank, and who had 
helped to squander my money, was there one who 
could help me, or would, if he could? No, not 
one. It were worse than leaning on a broken 
reed. There was no hope, absolutely none. And 
as I leaned my head upon my hands, upon the 
library table, I was utterly miserable. 

To what a sorry pass I had come at last, and all 
my own fault. 

Thought after thought rushed through my brain ; 
my father’s anger, my mother’s tears, even the 
very texts that used to adorn my bedroom: “ Be 
sure your sin will find you out,” and others of a 
like nature, rose up in judgment against me. 


92 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


And, yet, after all, it ivas hard. Had I not en- 
dured enough ? Had I not sufficiently expiated 
my sins ? For nearly two years, I had led a per- 
fectly blameless life, doing the duty that lay near- 
est to me, and resisting temptations innumerable, 
many born of former habits. 

Two fortunes lost ! my mother’s mone} r given to 
my rival ; my own at the bottom of the sea, and 
now, crowning and most cruel loss of all, the only 
woman I had ever loved — lost too. It was too 
much : my soul revolted. 

Raising my head, my eyes fell upon Mr. Wil- 
cox’s check book, which, with his usual careless- 
ness, he. had left upon the table. 

His check book! Yes, there was the way of 
escape, the chance to turn the tables upon my 
enemies. What more easy for a cunning hand 
like mine to forge Mr. Wilcox's name, so exactly 
that it would never be detected. The check could 
be made payable to bearer, and, for a considera- 
tion, would be presented by Ramsden, the man 
to whom my I. O. U. had been given. Even then 
I wondered what induced him to sell it to Rascom ; 
anyway, however, he was the man for my pur- 
pose. 

I took pen and paper, and made a few trials, 
comparing them with Mr. Wilcox’s actual signa- 
ture as it lay before me at the bottom of a letter 
he had written. 


TEMPTATION. 93 

The facsimile was perfect, and would deceive 
“ the very elect.” 

I had filled in the body of the check, and was 
about to add the name, when a convulsive shudder 
seized me, and, in a moment, I realized, in all its 
dread enormity, what I was doing. “ Great God ! ” 

I cried, “the hand that drew Alice’s face, and 
that would crave to clasp her hand when the holy 
marriage vow was registered, to be the same hand 
that forged her father’s name. No, never ! ” and 
I threw the book aside. 

Then I bethought me of the manifold graces of 
her mind and body, of the arch and winning ways 
of this pretty Puritan, ill whom I had garnered 
up all my joys. To give her up ’twere bad in- 
deed, but ’twere worse to place her in the arms 
of my rival. 

Again I drew the book towards me, and took 
the pen in hand, but was so unnerved I could not 
write. Should I sign or not? My fate trembled 
in the balance. 

There was a knock upon the door. Covering 
up the check book, and shrinking like a guilty 
creature, I said, “ Come in.” 

A servant entered. “ Mr. Rascom,” said he, 

“ requested me, sir, before he went riding, to re- 
mind you of next Saturday,” and he withdrew. 

This then was the final warning. 

There was no more hesitation, now, as sitting . 


94 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


down, once more I drew the book towards me, and 
dipping the pen in the ink, nerved myself to write 
the name. The pen had barely touched the paper, 
when a flash of light ran across the page. 
Amazed I started up, and saw — the sunlight 
streaming through the window. 

“ My vow ! ” I cried. “ Saved, mother, 
saved ! ” and dropped unconscious to the floor. 

How long I lay there I know not. As my 
senses returned, I felt that my brow and hands 
were being kissed, and that tears fell upon my 
cheeks. Faintly I heard the words : “ Reginald, 

my darling Reginald, do not leave me now.” 

“No, mother,” answered I, as one partly 
awakened from a dream, “ I will never leave you 
more.” 

Opening my eyes I saw, not my mother, but 
Alice, bending over me, chafing my hands with 
hers. She was deadly pale, and great drops of 
sweat hung upon her brow. 

“ Thank God ! you are alive,” she said ; “ I 
thought you were dead.” 

“ Oh, Alice, Alice,” murmured I, holding her 
hand, “you little know, from what you have 
awaked me.” 

She raised me to my feet, and helped me to a 
couch, and stood over me, too agitated for some 
time to speak. At last she said, “ You have been 
ill : I found you prone upon the floor.” 


TEMPTATION. 


95 


“ I dreamt I saw my mother,” said I ; “ she 
stood before me, as I have known her to do, when 
I was a wilful boy, and with imploring hands be- 
sought me not to do wrong.” 

“ You have overworked yourself, Reginald,” 
said Alice, “ and I must speak to my father.” 

“ And I had promised I would not,” continued I, 
“ when, all at once the vision left me, and I was 
as one dead. I was awakened by tears falling 
upon my cheeks, and kisses upon my brow.” 

“You will have brain fever, Reginald, if you 
work at that book so much,” she hastily inter- 
rupted. 

“ No,” answered I, slowly, “ it is not brain 
fever. I saw my mother — angel as she is — as 
plainly as I see you, and answered her, more 
plainly than I speak now, but ” 

“ You had better rest now, Reginald,” she said, 
hurriedly. 

“But,” continued I, ignoring what she had 
said, “ the kisses and the tears. They were an 
angel’s — but, — not my mother’s,” and I looked 
her in the face. With dilated eyes she gazed upon 
me, growing pale and red by turns, then, without 
a word, she turned and tottered from the room. 

In some old legend I have read, “ as a wounded 
knight lay in mortal extremity, the kisses of his 
lady love snatched him from the very jaws of 
death.” It was so with me. 


96 MASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

I sprang to my feet, a new man, and, as I 
destroyed the check, once more the blood coursed, 
freely through my veins, and life was worth the 
living. 

When Mr. Wilcox hurried into the room, to 
his amazement, he found me stalking up and 
down, singing : 

“ ‘ Nil desperaudum ! Nil desperaudum ! 

I’ll never despair.’ ” 

Calming down, I obtained his permission for a 
day’s absence. I had determined to go to Lon- 
don, and see Ramsden, and find out all I could 
about that I. O. U. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE LIGHT BREAKS. 

It was with some little difficulty I found the 
house where poor Ramsden lived. Having care- 
fully ascended some flights of ricketty stairs, and 
opened the door of a wretched attic at the top, it 
was some time in the dim light before I could 
recognize in the shrunken face and wasted form, 
that lay upon the bed, the fine, handsome Rams- 
den I had known in former days, though I re- 
membered he had shown signs of breaking up 
when I last met him. He was the wreck of his 
former self, and was evidently in the last stage 
of consumption. 


THE LIGHT BREAKS. 


97 


He turned his head upon hearing the creaking 
of the door, and his face lighted up as he saw 
me. 

“Ah, Dayton,” said he, as he held out his 
wasted hand, “ it is kind of you to come and see 
me, especially in such a hole as this,” and his eyes 
strayed sadly around the poverty stricken room. 
“ I’m about to play my last card, and shall lose 
the biggest game I’ve ever played. I mean the 
game of ljfe.” 

“ I hope it’s not as bad as that,” said I. 

“ Yes, it is,” answered he. “I’ve won many 
games in my time ; many fairly, more unfairly ; 
but all my tricks will not avail to win this game, 
in which I, myself, am the stake ; and the stake 
will be lost, perhaps, irretrievably lost.” And his 
head sunk upon his breast. In the face of. such 
utter despair I could only mutter some meaningless 
words of comfort, and think it was only God’s 
mercy, that I was not — as I might have been— as 
he was. 

“Yes, Dayton,” he resumed, “I’m glad you’ve 
come before the candle goes out, indeed, it would 
have gone out before this, only the money you 
sent kept it alight a little longer.” 

I had sent him some small sums, in answer to 
his letters. 

“ Now,” said he, after a pause, “ there’s one 
crooked game I’ve played, I will try to straighten 

7 


98 


PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


out before I go. I mean about that I. O. U. for 
<£ 200 .” 

“ It was about that I came to see you,” said I. 
“ You said you would destroy it.” 

“ I lied then, as I have before,” said he. 
“ When I last met you, and found, notwithstand- 
ing, you had been down in your luck so long, you 
had managed to give me something from time to 
time, I fully determined to destroy it, and should 
have done so, had not the man, who instigated the 
whole affair, taken advantage of my poverty, and 
bought it from me.” 

“ You mean Rascom,” said I. 

“ Yes Rascom it was, who first suggested that I. 
O. U., and now holds it, much I fear to your 
injury,” replied he. 

“ Yes, to my deadly injury. With the aid of 
that I. O. U., he would rob me of honor, respect, 
nay more, of the love of the woman I prize most 
in this world.” 

“I feared something of the sort,” answered he, 
“ and as you see,” pointing to a note upon the 
table, “ had written you to come and see me be- 
fore I died. Heaven must have anticipated me, as 
you are here. You remember, of course,” re- 
sumed he, “ the night of September 14th, when 
you and I were playing against Cochrane and 
Rogers, and I was detected cheating ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, only too well.” 


THE LIGHT BREAKS, 


99 


“ Of course, as you were my partner, and would 
be benefited by winning, you were held to be an 
accomplice.” 

“ But I protested I was in no sense an ac- 
cessory ” 

“ The facts were against you, together with 
the company you were in. You can’t touch pitch 
without being defiled. Well what further do 
you remember of that evening? ” 

“ Nothing ! I had been drinking and everything 
became a blank.” 

“Just so! so that when a month afterwards, 
you were told you had played recklessly and lost, 
and had given me an I. O. U. for £200, especially 
when you saw your own signature — whatever you 
may have thought — you could not deny it.” 

“ That’s true.” 

“ Now,” said he, after a fit of coughing, which 
threatened to shake him to pieces, “ now, before I 
tell you how that I. O. U. was obtained, let me 
tell you some prior facts. A few days after that 
newspaper account appeared, in which you were 
indirectly referred to ; I was called upon, at my 
lodgings, by Mr. Rascom. After some little con- 
versation in which he made it clear he was 
familiar with my past career, he went on to say 
that your father had disinherited you, and forbid- 
den you the house, for your share in that card af- 
fair. He and his father were anxious that your 


100 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


complicity in that affair should be widely known, 
as such a course would prevent family trouble in 
future ; by which I understood he wished to make 
matters so bad, as to preclude any chance of your 
being reinstated in your father’s favor.” Here 
Ramsden rested a few minutes, as he was much 
exhausted. 

“ I pointed out that should you choose to deny, 
it would be simply my word against yours, and 
that in the long run, you were more likely to be 
believed than I ; for bad as you were, I was much 
worse. He was much disappointed, and after say- 
ing he would willingly give <£100, if he could get 
some hold of you, which would prevent you re- 
turning home again, he left, promising to return 
in a little time.” 

Here Ramsden lay back upon the bed, and became 
so deadly pale, I was afraid he was going ; however 
in a few minutes he rallied, and continued : 

“ I was dreadfully hard up ; that newspaper ac- 
count, after a time, made everybody shy of me, 
and the promise of <£100 — like the thought of 
water to a thirsty man — was ever before me. I 
racked my brain to earn it. And as the devil is 
usualty at the elbow of those who seek him ; the 
idea came. I wrote Rascom, if he would call, 
something might be done. 

“ Do you remember, early in October, some 
weeks later, I wrote you asking for the loan of 


THE LIGHT BREAKS. 


101 


£10, hinting if you did not wish any further pub- 
licity, it would be to your interest to oblige me?” 

“ I do, and as I was dreadfully afraid anything 
further might distress my mother, I sent you £5 
by Bob, together with a note, explaining that was 
all I could spare.” 

“ Well Rascom and I took that note of yours, 
and having carefully erased everything with acids, 
except the signature. I wrote above that — 

“ London, September 14th, 18 — . 

I. O. U., James Ramsden, £200 for value re- 
ceived. Reginald Dayton.” 

“ God forgive you ! What cursed villains you 
were,” said I, thinking of all the misery that I. O. 
U. had caused me. 

“ Amen ! say I,” said he, “ for we need His for- 
giveness ; but wait, I haven’t done yet. Do you 
remember what paper you used in writing to me ? ” 

“ I took the first that came to hand, as it lay 
upon the table.” 

“ Do you remember what you had been doing, 
immediately before my note came?” 

“ I do. I had been teaching Bob — who wanted 
to learn to write — how to make straight strokes 
and pot hooks. We had just finished as your 
note came, and were laughing, as I had written 
his name, and put under the straight strokes and 
pot hooks, his marks,” 


102 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

“ Yes, and inadvertedly, of course, you wrote 
my note upon the back of that lesson, and when 
we had erased your writing, on the one side, we 
were compelled to leave some of the marks on the 
other, because the paper was too thin to bear the 
double erasure, and the marks are there yet/’ 

“But how will all this demonstrate my inno- 
cence ? ” 

“Easily and completely,” answered he, after 
another long fit of coughing. “ You know where 
to find your old servant?” 

“ He is in the same house as myself.” 

“ Good, very good. What was the date when 
you wrote to me?” 

I considered for a moment : “ It must have 
been October 12th.” 

“ And the date of the card cheating affair, the 
date when the I. O. U. was supposed to have 
been given, was September 14th, a month earlier.” 

Light at last. I saw it all, and thanked God 
for His mercy. 

My joy was cut short by a groan from Rams- 
den. He had fainted from exhaustion, and it was 
with difficult}^, with the aid of restoratives, I 
brought him to. As soon as he had recovered, he 
said: “In that cupboard you will find the acids 
that erased the characters of your letter ; also the 
acids that will restore them, together with full 
directions. Have you any legal friend, who would 


THE LIGHT BREAKS. 


103 


take my deposition? If so, bring him here at 
once, before it is too late.” 

“ Yes,” answered I, “ there is Mr. Blanchard, 
our family solicitor. Very likely I could bring 
him here within an hour.” 

“ Go at once., and be back as quickly as possible.” 

Having made him as comfortable as possible, I 
hastened to seek Mr. Blanchard, and fortunately 
found him in his office. 

“ Why you are the very man I was about to 
write to,” said he. “ I have already written the 
Rascoms, also Mr. Wilcox, with whom I under- 
stand two of them are staying, that I shall be 
down to see them and you, next Tuesday, Janu- 
ary 10th, in relation to your mother’s will.” 

“ My mother’s will ! ” exclaimed I, surprised. 
“ But Mr. Blanchard, I have something which ad- 
mits of no delay, if you will kindly hear me.” 

“ Certainly,” said he. 

I then told him, as briefly as I could, of the 
condition of poor Ramsden, and of the confession 
he had made, so satisfactory to me, and damaging 
to himself and Rascom. 

“ I congratulate you, Dayton, with all my 
heart,” said the old lawyer, but come, let us go 
at once.” 

When we reached Ramsden’s bedside, it was 
evident he was sinking fast ; indeed, a little time 
after he had signed his deposition, he expired.. 


104 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

Having made all necessary arrangements, I left 
with Mr. Blanchard, who was careful to take the 
acids before alluded to with him. 

Upon our return to his office I narrated the cir- 
cumstances which had led to the threat of Ras- 
com, and my journey to Ramsden. 

He made no reply beyond saying he should see 
me with the others the following Tuesday, in re- 
lation to my mother’s will. 

Upon my asking the nature of the business, he 
said everything would be explained then. He, 
however, voluntarily wrote me a letter for Mr. 
Wilcox, which after detailing the circumstances 
under which the deposition was taken, concluded 
by saying I was completely exonerated of all com- 
plicity in cheating. 

“ With regard to that bogus I. O. U. Rascom 
has,” said he at parting, “ I should let him do his 
worst, and say nothing, beyond giving Mr. Wil- 
cox my letter, as we can checkmate him, and 
settle up everything next Tuesday.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE ACCUSATION. 

Following the advice of Mr. Blanchard, I let 
Saturday pass by, and made no sign. 

On Monday morning, in response to the request 
of Mr. Wilcox, I entered the library, and sat 


THE ACCUSATION. 


105 


down at the table in front of him. I saw he was 
greatly agitated. We had been so much together, 
and I had had so many opportunities of appreciat- 
ing the sterling kindness of his heart, that much 
as I dreaded the coming ordeal as to my past life, 
I could not help pitying him. 

“ Reginald, my boy,” said he, with fatherly 
kindness, after an embarrassing pause, “ I have 
sent for you, to speak upon a very painful subject, 
not only to you, but to all of us.” And he looked 
upon me with troubled eyes. 

“ You came here,” resumed he, “some eighteen 
months ago, upon the recommendation of Mr. 
Blanchard, and were engaged to assist me in the 
preparation of my great work. Had you come 
without that recommendation, you would have 
been engaged, for nothing I might be able to do 
could repay you for saving the live,s of Alice and 
myself.” 

“ There is no obligation about it,” said I. 

“ You may think so, and I believe you do, but 
Alice and I think differently. Well, you have 
been here, as one of the family, for a long time, 
and I can truly say, your behavior has always 
been that of a gentleman.” 

“ Thank you,” said I. 

“ Nay, more than that, you have taken such an 
interest in my work, and have helped me so much 
with counsel and sympathy, that I have grown to 


106 PASSING THEOUGH THE OEDEAL. 

look upon you like a son.” And the tears trickled 
down the old gentleman’s cheeks, and I am not 
ashamed to say, I was profoundly affected too. 

“Now, Reginald,” he resumed, “if it were only 
us two men, I don’t think anything could separate 
us; but — I have a daughter — the one you Served — 
and the one that I — her father — must also save. 
Reginald, I love my book much,” and he laid his 
hand caressingly upon the manuscript, “ but I love 
my child more.” 

And mere bookworm as he was, he looked so 
noble, and so glorified by love, that — even though 
I knew what was coming— I could have knelt and 
kissed his hand. 

“This morning,” he continued, “your relative, 
Mr. Rascom, formally requested permission to pay 
his addresses to Alice, somewhat to my surprise. 
I told him if Alice had no objection there would 
be none upon my part ; though I confess,” and his 
eyes lingered inquiringly upon me, “ I thought 
she might have other preferences. At my reply 
Mr. Rascom became angry, and abruptly asked me 
if I knew what sort of character I was harboring 
in the person of yourself? To be plain, he made 
certain charges against you, which I will state, 
that you may defend yourself. 

“ His first charge was that you were in love 
with Alice.” 

“ It were no great crime if it were so. Who 


THE ACCUSATION. 


107 


could help loving her ? ” said I, boldly. “ But if 
he means to say, that I have ever told her of my 
love, or done aught a gentleman should not do, I 
deny it, sir.” 

“ Spoken like a man, Reginald, and I believe 
you,” said Mr. Wilcox. “ He next charges, that 
you were expelled from college, and afterwards 
lived a life of excesses in London.” 

“ Both true, sir. I was expelled from college 
for disobedience, and, being young and foolish, did 
run into excesses.” 

Mr. Wilcox looked grave, and continued : “ He 
next charges that your conduct was such, as to 
anger your father, and break your mother’s heart, 
and that they both disinherited you for that 
reason.” 

“Yes, it is true they both disinherited me, but 
that I broke my mother’s heart is utterly false. 
She died of a lingering complaint, as Mr. Blanch- 
ard, the family solicitor will tell you ; indeed, do 
you think he would recommend any one to you, 
who was not trustworthy? He knew I had re- 
formed.” 

“ That’s so Reginald, I don’t think he would.” 

After a pause, as though he were reluctant to 
proceed, he said : 

“Now we come to the blackest charge of all, 
and upon that depends everything. 

“ He charges that on September 14th, 18 — , in 


108 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

company with one Ramsden, a notorious gambler, 
you were detected cheating at cards, and offers as 
proof, not only the newspaper account thereof, but 
an I. O. U., which you gave Ramsden immediately 
after, to exonerate you of complicity in the affair. 
What have you to say to that?” and the old gen- 
tleman peered anxiously into my face. 

“ That for some time I did live an irregular life, 
no man realizes better, or repents more than my- 
self, but that I ever cheated at cards, or gave any 
one an I. O. U. to clear me of complicity in cheat- 
ing, is utterly false, as I shall be able to show. I 
am ashamed to admit such an accusation would 
not have been possible, had I not drank to excess 
on that dreadful evening.” 

“ Reginald this is a very bad business, even by 
your own showing,” said Mr. Wilcox. 

“ It is a bad business, sir, but not as bad as it 
has been made to appear, as you will see by this 
letter from Mr. Blanchard,” and I handed him the 
letter. 

The old gentleman read it attentively through, 
his countenance visibly brightening as he pro- 
ceeded. 

“You appear,” said he, at last, “to have been 
the victim of very peculiar circumstances.” 

“ Yes, that is true to some extent, but it was my 
own conduct that made those circumstances possi- 
ble.” 


COMPLICATIONS. 


109 


“ Yes,” said he, “ we place ourselves in the way 
of temptation, and then blame the temptation for 
our fall.” 

“ But the worst of it all is,” said I, “ when a 
man repents, and would redeem himself, he finds 
himself hampered at every turn by his former 
sins. And not only has that been so in my case, 
but there has been some sinister influence, con- 
stantly at work to prevent my reformation.” 

“ That you have repented, and tried to do right, 
I am sure is true,” said he, “and God forbid, 
Reginald, I should say or do aught to discourage 
you. You saved us, and we must do our best 
to save you. We will wait until after Mr. Blanch- 
ard comes to-morrow, and then I hope we shall be 
able to get back to our work, as though nothing 
had happened.” 

And he shook me heartily by the hand. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

COMPLICATIONS. 

It is strange, how, for days, sometimes for 
years, we drift down the stream of life, with noth- 
ing to break the monotony of our way ; then all 
at once, events crowd thick and fast upon the 
heels of each other, and in a brief space of time, 
we have enough excitement to last for years. 


110 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

Such had been my experience of late, but, to- 
day, above all others, was a day of surprises. 

After the interview with Mr. Wilcox, I took a 
long walk. Returning late in the afternoon, upon 
entering the library, much to my surprise, a 
motherly looking woman started up from a chair 
upon which she had been sitting, and came towards 
me. She was much agitated, and looked piteously 
at me. At last she managed to say, “ I’m so glad 
I’ve found you at last, sir. I’ve been all the way 
from home to London, and from there here, but 
. I’ve found you now, thank God ! ” 

“ Yes,” said I, wondering who she was. “What 
can I do for you ? ” 

“ You can do nothing for me, but everything 
for my daughter. I’m Katie’s mother,” she an- 
swered, and looked curiously and anxiously at me. 

“ And what can I do for her ? ” asked I, not 
knowing what she meant. 

“ What can you do for her ! ” she cried, excitedly. 
“ Ask your own conscience, sir. I’m her mother, 
and she has confessed everything to me.” 

“ Confessed everything to you ! ” echoed I. 

“ Yes, everything,” answered she, “ and I’ve 
traveled all this way to ask you to do what is 
right.” 

“ My dear lady,” said I gently, “ there must be 
some mistake.” 

“There is no mistake,” she said, decidedly. 


COMPLICATIONS. 


Ill 


“ Oh, sir, Katie was always a good girl, and here 
upon my bended knees,” and she sank upon her 
knees, and clasped her hands, before I could pre- 
vent her, “here I implore you, as her mother, to 
save her good name, and make her your wife,” 
and she looked beseechingly upwards into my face. 

I heard a stifled cry behind, and looking over 
my shoulder, in the mirror at the end of the room, 
I saw a reflection of Alice, as she stood, shielded 
by the open door leading into the next room. Her 
hands were clasped across her forehead, her face 
was white with anguish, and her body swayed to 
and fro. She had heard all. 

The situation almost drove me frantic. 

“ Again I tell you, there must be some dreadful 
mistake,” said I, as gently as I was able. 

“ No, there is no mistake,” she reiterated ex- 
citedly. “ Oh, sir ! you can’t be so base as to 
deny my Katie. You don’t look a bad man!” 
and she turned me towards the light. “ Oh, think 
of your sister, or your mother, and don’t break a 
poor old woman’s heart, by shaming her daughter. 
Come let’s go to Katie.” I heard another cry, 
and again in the glass, I saw Alice bending for- 
ward with outstretched hands, as though she, too, 
were adding her prayers to the mother’s. I was 
so utterly demoralized I could not say a word, but 
stared stupidly at the mother. 

She mistook my silence for relenting. “ Come,” 


112 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

she said, “ let’s go at once, and put Katie out of 
her misery. She may not be as well educated as 
yourself, but she is a bonnie girl, and you’ll never 
be ashamed of her,” and she grasped me by the 
arm, and urged me towards the door, which 
opened, as we looked, and Rascom entered. 

Resisting the old lady’s pressure, I turned, and 
in the mirror, saw Alice again. The look of 
misery upon her face I shall never forget. She 
was the living embodiment of despair, as she 
moaned, unconsciously it seemed : 

■ “ Oh, Reginald, Reginald, and has it come to 
this ? ” 

Utterly beside myself, I cried, “ No ! ten 
thousand times, no ! This is some vile plot to ruin 
me. Woman,” said I, turning to the poor mother, 
44 I know you not, neither do I know your daugh- 
ter.” 

44 Thou villain ! ” she shrieked, 44 who darest to 
talk of a plot to ruin thee, when thou hast ruined 
my daughter. May the vengeance of heaven fall 
upon thy head, Mr. Rascom ! ” 

44 Rascom,” shouted I. 44 Look, Alice, look ! ” 
and I pointed — as though she were actually 
present — towards Rascom as he cowered against 
the wall, near the door. Striding towards him, I 
turned him around, face foremost, and said, 
44 Stand forth, Edward Rascom ; thou art the 
guilty man.” 


VICTORY. 


113 


And the words, “ Father, I thank thee ! ” fell 
upon my ears, as from the mirror the form of 
Alice vanished. Rascom was out when the old 
lady called, and she was shown into the library to 
await his return. I returned first, and going 
directly there — as my custom was — naturally, she 
mistook me for him, with results as before de- 
scribed. 

The sting of the whole matter lay in the fact 
that had my past life been what it should have 
been, there would have been no cause for dis» 
quietude. It is one of the penalties of sin, that 
sometimes we have to bear the odium of acts of 
which we are innocent, because of others of which 
we have been guilty. 


CHAPTER XV. 

VICTORY. 

The morrow came, and as we with eager expec- 
tancy awaited Mr. Blanchard’s arrival, I could not 
help being irritated by the triumphant air with 
which my brother-in-law — who had arrived earlier 
— and his son regarded me. J udging by her looks, 
Alice shared my feelings. All speculation on that 
score, however, was cut short by the lawyer’s 
arrival. Having saluted us, and taken his seat at 
8 


114 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

the library table, it was plain to see, he too, was 
jubilant. All of which was very mystifying, and 
became more so, as he requested three small bowls 
and a jug of water should be brought him, which 
having arranged before him to his liking, he said: 

“ You probably wonder how it is, at this late 
day, two years after the death of our esteemed 
friend, Mrs. Dayton, we should be called to con- 
sider anything further about her will, made Octo- 
ber 10th, 18 — , some three months before her de- 
cease. 

“ You may remember that will continued a 
clause to the effect, that all its provisions were to 
be considered binding, should no other will, of a 
later date, be made. The question is : was any 
other will made of a later date than October 
10th, 18 — , and if so, do its provisions confirm or 
cancel those of the will of that date? 

“ I hold in my hand,” continued he, drawing a 
package from his pocket, “ an envelope, containing 
a will, executed by the testatrix, January 7th, 
18 — , three da} T s before her death ; such will, after 
having been duly signed and witnessed, was en- 
closed in this envelope, sealed, and delivered unto 
me with written instructions that the seal thereof 
should not be broken, until twelve o’clock of the 
day, two years after the testatrix’s death. 

“ Our esteemed friend died January 10th, 18 — . 
It is now January, 10th, 18—, just two years later. 


VICTORY. 115 

“ To-day is January 10th, is it not, sir ? ” said 
the old lawyer, turning to my brother-in-law. 

“ Yes, yes, of course,” said Mr. Rascom, who 
seemed anxious to proceed. 

“Well, that being so,” resumed Mr. Blanchard, 
with provoking slowness, “ we will now carry out 
the deceased’s wishes. We will open this envel- 
ope,” and he took it in his hand, and toyed with it. 
“ But stay, it is well to be exact : let me see,” and 
he took out his watch, which was as old-fashioned 
as himself. “ There are still ten minutes to 
twelve, but perhaps my watch is slow. What do 
you make it, Mr. Rascom?” 

“ Seven minutes to twelve,” snapped my brother- 
in-law, whose triumphant air had given place to 
one of uneasiness. 

“It’s curious, Mr. Rascom, isn’t it,” inquired 
the old lawyer, who seemed to take a wicked de- 
light in tantalizing us, “that timekeepers like 
ourselves, are not always correct? My watch 
says ten minutes ; yours says seven ; that — ” indi- 
cating a clock upon the mantel, “.says eight; and, 
dear me ! actually the church clock there,” and 
he pointed upwards through the window, “says 
nine minutes to twelve. We’ll bow to the decision 
of the church.” 

And down he sat, and glowered upon each in 
turn, with his sharp, piercing eyes, which seemed 
to be reading our very souls. 


116 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

He reminded me of poor Poe’s raven. 

The silence became oppressive, and it was a 
positive relief when the church bell tolled out the 
hour. 

The vibrations had barely died away before he 
slowly cut the end of the envelope, and taking out 
the will, leisurely straightened out the parchment 
upon the table. We watched his every move- 
ment ; somehow the whole thing was becoming in- 
tensely interesting: it seemed as though we were 
about to hear a voice from the grave. 

Looking around he began : 

“I, Elizabeth Alice, Dayton, being conscious 
that my end is drawing near, do hereby desire, 
while in full possession of my senses, to make my 
last will and testament, to the revocation and 
cancellation of all former wills. 

“ I hereby desire to confirm all the legacies con- 
tained in my will of October 10th, 18 — , to wit: ” 

Then followed a number of small legacies, 
mostly to old servants. Afterwards two of 
£1000 each to my half-sister and her husband, and 
— what pleased me most — one of £50 to Bob, in 
recognition of his faithful service to me. Then 
came this curious clause : 

“ All the rest of my property to wit :” (here 
followed an enumeration, amounting to over £25- 
000,) “ the income of which was left conditionally 


VICTORY. 


117 


for two years to Edward Rascom, the younger, I 
now finally dispose of, under the following condi- 
tions : 

“I leave the whole amount, to wit,” (here fol- 
lowed the same enumeration,) “ to my dear son, 
Reginald, who, notwithstanding all reports to the 
contrary, has always been a good son to me ; pro- 
vided always, at the time of the reading of this 
will, he be possessed of property, personal, or of 
any kind whatever which amounts to X500. In 
case he be so possessed, the whole amount will be- 
come his, subject to the payment of <£100 per 
annum to Edward Rascom, the younger. Should 
the said Reginald Dayton be not so possessed of 
<£500, then the whole of the property, to wit:” 
(same enumeration as before,) “shall revert to 
Edward Rascom, the younger, his heirs and assigns 
forever, subject to an annuity of <£100 per annum 
to the aforesaid Reginald Dayton.” 

A dead silence followed the reading of the will. 
Dumbfounded as I was, I now knew the reason 
why the old lawyer had advised me to save my 
money. A princely fortune within my grasp, and 
yet lost, and perhaps Alice, too ; for, even if she 
were willing, how could I ask her to marry almost 
a beggar. Truly, “ the way of the transgressor is 
hard.” 

There was a ray of light: my mother, from her 
grave, as it were, had exonerated me from the 
cruel charge of causing her death ; she had even 
spoken of me as having been “ a good son to her.” 


118 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


“ Thank God for that ! ” I involuntarily ex- 
claimed. 

44 You say, 4 Thank God ! ’ Mr. Dayton,” said 
the old lawyer in surprise, 44 then you are pos- 
sessed of £500, and will be able to claim your 
mother’s money.” 

44 1 was not thinking of the money,” I replied ; 
44 1 was thanking God my mother had spoken of 
me as having been a good son.” 

44 Oh ! I’m sure it’s very creditable to you, to 
have thought of that first,” smilingly, said he, 
44 but what we have to consider now is : Are you 
possessed of £500 ? ” 

44 Yes,” said my brother-in-law, “that’s the 
question, the vital question, and nothing else.” 

44 No,” said I, 44 all I’m worth in the wide world 
is about £125, and even for that I’m indebted to 
Mr. Wilcox, who generously gave me employ- 
ment I failed to find elsewhere.” 

44 Tut! tut!” said Mr. Wilcox, 44 the obligation 
is on my side; you have more than earned the 
money.” 

44 Then I’m to understand you have not got the 
money ? ” said Mr. Blanchard. 44 Why I understood 
you were extremely rich, when you left Aus- 
tralia.” 

44 That was so,” said I, unthinkingly, 44 but all 
our money went to the bottom of the sea, when 
the ship foundered.” 


VICTOKY. 


119 


“Yes,” burst out Alice, “your money was lost, 
while you were saving us,” and she gave me a 
look, which repaid me for all. 

“Well, it was lost, and you haven’t got <£500; 
that’s what it comes to ; so the money reverts to 
my son,” brutally said Mr. Rascom. 

“ Yes, that’s what it comes to,” I was forced to 
admit. 

“ No ! it doesn’t come to that, Reginald, begging 
your pardon,” said Mr. Wilcox, with whom Alice 
had been holding a whispered consultation. “I’m 
indebted to you £400, the price of these draw- 
ings,” (Alice had taken them from the drawer,) 
“ which you made of my daughter, and which she 
reminds me has not yet been paid.” And he held 
up the three drawings I had made of her, and 
called “All the Graces,” the price of which I had 
laughingly said would be £400. 

“Yes, master,” broke in Bob, “and you can 
have my £50, and what I’ve saved besides.” 

“You’ll take my check, of course?” asked Mr. 
Wilcox. 

“ Of course,” said the lawyer. 

“No, sir, you won’t. I protest against all this. 
It is simply collusion to rob my son,” furiously 
burst out Mr. Rascom, who saw the money slip- 
ping through their fingers. 

“In the first place,” said Mr. Blanchard, “your 
son cannot be robbed of what he has never owned, 


120 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

and in the second, having regard to the character 
of those concerned, the charge of collusion is 
simply ridiculous.” 

“ But,” urged my brother-in-law, “ can you, Mr. 
Blanchard, or you either Mr. Wilcox, honestly 
say these drawings are worth <£400?” 

“Well,” replied the old lawyer, as he carefully 
scanned the drawings, “though I’m no judge of 
the fine arts, I must say they are fine likenesses. 
It would appear to have been a labor of love. 
May I ask Miss Wilcox,” and he looked quiz- 
zically at Alice, “ what makes these drawings so 
valuable in your eyes : the subject or the execu- 
tion?” 

“The execution,” she blushingly answered. 

“ And what do you say, Mr. Dayton?” 

“The subject, sir, the subject,” I unblusliingly 
answered. 

“You see, Mr. Rascom,” said the lawyer, laugh- 
ingly, “ how difficult it is to appraise works of art. 
In this very case, the buyer and seller do not agree 
upon what constitutes the real value. We shall 
have to assume the drawings are worth what they 
will fetch.” 

“ Once more,” said my brother-in-law, “ I pro- 
test against the consummation of this scheme tb 
rob my son of his rights. But, no doubt,” he 
added, sneeringly, “ Mr. Dayton will be glad to 
get the money by any means,” 


VICTORY. 


121 


“ You are mistaken,” said I ; “ you judge me by 
yourself. Much as I appreciate your generosity, 
Mr. Wilcox, and yours, too, Bob, and much as I 
desire to be rich for other reasons,” and I glanced 
at Alice, “ yet my self-respect forbids me to take 
this money, as I have not earned the <£500 neces- 
sary to obtain it.” 

“ Oh, this is madness, rank lunacy, Reginald! ” 
said Mr. Wilcox. 

“ Yes, nothing but quixotism run wild ! ” im- 
patiently snapped the old lawyer; “to pitch a 
property like this into the gutter, for a mere 
scruple.” 

“No,” I replied, “it is neither quixotism, nor 
madness, but my own self-respect that actuates 
me ; besides I am still young, and though two 
fortunes are lost, with brave endeavor I may make 
another.” 

“ So I’m to understand you refuse to take your 
mother’s money ? ” interrogated Mr. Blanchard. 

“ Certainly if it can be obtained only by such 
means.” 

’ “ Ugh ! ” growled he, “ I suppose you think it’s 

a fine thing to throw away so much money, as 
though it were dirt ? And I suppose,” he added, 
turning suddenly to Alice, “ you think it is a fine 
thing too ? ” 

“ I do, indeed ! ” replied she. “ I think it’s 
grand and noble.” 


122 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

“You do, eh!” said lie, “well, all I can say is, 
that you’re a brace of young fools.” 

“ They wouldn’t catch you or I throwing away 
so much money for a mere scruple, or any scruple 
at all, would they Mr. Rascom ? ” 

“What we might do, or not do, matters not to 
this business,” angrily answered my brother-in- 
law. “ As Mr. Dayton has confessed he cannot 
fulfil the conditions, the money will revert to my 
son, and that ends the matter,” and he rose to 
leave the room. 

“Stay a moment, if you please,” said Mr. 
Blanchard. “ As you sa}^ that ends the matter, 
that is as far as we have gone ; but we have not 
yet finished. I have a few questions to ask Mr. 
Dayton. 

“You were in Australia, some time ago?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ While there did you know an old miner, 
named Raynor?” 

“I did.” 

“He had a son, named Harry.” 

“ Yes, he was devotedly attached to his son, and 
hoped to make him a rich man, but unfortunately 
the son died here in England.” 

“When you left Australia, you promised the 
father to erect a monument over his boy’s grave ?” 
“ I did.” 

“ At whose expense ? ” 


VICTORY. 


123 


“My own; though it is but just to say Mr. 
Raynor was anxious to pay everything. I had 
only that day realized the folly of my past life, 
and begged to be allowed to attend to the matter, 
as the first fruits of a better life.” 

“ And that monument you paid for, after your 
money was lost, out of the £200 left you by your 
mother, or rather out of the £150, which re- 
mained, after you had settled with Brier ton ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Do you know, Mr. Dayton, some of your 
friends have painted you pretty black, but it ap- 
pears you are not as black as you were painted.” 

“ When will this glorification of Mr. Dayton 
cease, and this tedious farce come to an end?” 
impatiently asked Mr. Rascom. 

“ Tedious ! hear the sequel ; it may prove very 
interesting to you,” rejoined the lawyer. 

“ Now, Mr. Dayton, are you aware Mr. Raynor 
died, some months back ? ” 

“No, sir; I’m sorry to hear it.” 

“Are you aware that when he died, he was 
worth over £30,000?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ We come now to the last and most important 
question of all,” and he paused, and looked around 
to see that we were all attentive. “ Are you 
aware that he left every penny of which he died 
possessed to — you? ” 


124 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

“ Good heavens, no ! Can it be passible ? ” 

“ It’s a lie, an accursed lie ! ” screamed my 
brother-in-law, utterly beside himself. “ It’s an- 
other of your cunning tricks to defraud my 
son ! ” 

“ I told you the sequel was interesting, and you 
appear to find it so,” said Mr. Blanchard; “but 
it’s true nevertheless. Some months ago I was 
apprised of Mr. Raynor’s death, and that he had 
left everything to Mr. Dayton. The whole matter 
has been settled, and the money awaits Mr. Day- 
ton’s disposal. 

“ Knowing the contents of Mrs. Dayton’s will, 
and knowing somewhat of Mr. Dayton, yourself 
and son, I was minded to have you all display 
yourselves in your true colors, for the benefit of 
all whom it may concern. And that my plan has 
answered admirably must be evident to all.” 

“Yes, you white-headed, cunning old rogue, 
you have laid this trap to catch us, and — and — ” 

“You are caught,” chuckled the old lawyer. 

“ And I say I will contest the will, and have 
your name stricken from the rolls. I’ll — I’ll — ” 

“ Leave the room, certainly,” said Mr. Blanch- 
ard. “ Brierton show this creature out.” 

My brother-in-law glared at us with baffled 
fury, then rushed through the open door, mutter- 
ing vengeance as he went. 

The ironical obsequiousness with which Bob 


VICTORY. 125 

showed him out was a masterpiece of acting in its 
way. 

The father haying gone, the son, by way of a 
parting shot, with amazing effrontery as he took a 
paper from his pocket, said : “ I suppose there 

will be no difficulty now, Mr. Dayton — as you 
have grown so rich — in collecting this I. O. U. of 
yours for <£200, given the night you were impli- 
cated in cheating at cards,” and he glanced mali- 
ciously at Alice. 

“An I. O. U,” said Mr. Blanchard. “As Mr. 
Dayton’s solicitor I’ll take charge of it,” and he 
took from his hand, and read aloud the forgery 
before alluded to. “Why, dear me, how dirty it 
is!” he exclaimed. “ I’ll wash it clean,” and he 
put it in one of the bowls before him, and poured the 
contents of a vial he took from his pocket, over it. 

Astonished, Rascom gazed upon him. “Now 
we’ll rinse it off,” and he did so in another bowl, 
with water from the jug. 

“ Bless my soul,” he continued, after he had 
dried the paper before the fire. “ Look,” and he 
held the paper that we might see, “ we have only 
plain paper now ; but wait,” and he placed the 
paper in the third bowl, and poured the contents 
of another phial over it, rinsing with clear water 
and drying as before. “ Ah ! now, we’ve got the 
I. O. U. back, yes, and something else besides, 
and he read aloud : 


126 MASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 


“ 4 Oct. 12th, 18-—. 

Mr. Jas. Ramsden, 

Dear Sir : — I regret I cannot oblige you with 
<£10. I send you £5, all I can spare. 

Yours truly, 
Reginald Dayton.’ ” 

“ Queer, an I. O. U., dated September 14th, 
18 — , should be written over a letter written Oc- 
tober 12th, a month later, the only thing genuine 
being the signature ; but that is accounted for by 
this dying deposition of Ramsden,” and he took the 
deposition from his pocket ; “ one, I say one, Mr. 
Rascom, of the parties concerned in this forgery. 
It’s as clumsy a business as the pothooks upon the 
back of the paper. Isn’t it, Mr. Rascom ? ” 

Rascom did not reply. He was white as a 
sheet. He saw his schemes had come to nought, 
and that his villainy was exposed. I almost felt 
sorry for him. 

There was a painful pause, broken by the old 
lawyer. “Well, Mr. Dayton, what shall we do 
with this precious document ? ” 

“ Burn it ! ” said I, quietly. 

“ Burn it ! ” he echoed, astonished. 

“ Yes, burn it ! ” I repeated. “ His mother is 
my sister.” 

Alice gave me a look that spoke volumes. 

“Brierton,” said the old lawyer, “show this 
other creature out.” 


VICTORY. 


127 


As Rascom passed, Alice — truly feminine — af- 
fected to be admiring the sketches I had made, 
making running comments ; “ masterly touch, ex- 
quisitely done,” which must have cut like daggers 
to his soul. 

And as he left the room once more Bob eclipsed 
himself. 

Within an hour my relatives quitted the house. 
Congratulations were the order of the day. 

“ I couldn’t be better pleased, Reginald, if you 
had been my son,” said Mr. Wilcox. 

“ Thanks ! ” said I, native impudence coming to 
my aid. “As that is impossible, I should deem it 
an honor to be the next best thing — your son-in- 
law.” 

“ Eh, what do I hear; my son-in-law?” and he 
looked inquiringly at Alice. 

“ Regi — I mean Mr. Dayton — means, papa,” 
said Alice, blushing celestially, “that he loves 
your history so much that — rich as he is — he will 
never desert us — until it is finished.” 

“ Ah, Reginald, my dear boy,” he said, “ you, 
at least, appreciate my great work ; you are the 
only one who has loved this child of my brain, 
and I’m glad you won’t leave us.” 

“ No, sir,” said I, with a meaning glance at 
Alice. “ Come weal, come woe, I will never de- 
sert any of your children.” 

The old lawyer was excessively pleased at the 


128 PASSING THROUGH THE ORDEAL. 

turn affairs had taken, and having cordially shaken 
me by the hand, considerately took Mr. Wilcox 
and Bob from the room. 

We were alone, at last — my love and I. And 
as I gazed upon her fair and lovely form, as she 
stood with half averted face, and thought of all 
that had happened since together we had tossed 
upon the surging sea, a feeling of intense thank- 
fulness filled my heart. 

I took her tenderly by the hand, and all I could 
say was “ Alice, I love you.” 

She raised her steadfast eyes, full of purity and 
truth to mine, and as our lips met, she murmured : 

“ Reginald, I love you, too. You saved me from 
death, and I am all your own.” 

“ And my past, Alice ? ” 

“ Let us hear the old, old Book,” and reverently 
she repeated : 

“ 4 When the wicked man turneth away from 
the wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth 
that which is lawful and right, he shall save his 
soul alive.’ ” 

Bob and I were married the same day, and our 
plans were realized after all. 


THE END. 






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